


The Songbird's Eagle

by AndelynKinsey



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, I wanted to write about Link's parents from What We Did Before, Multi, Original Characters - Freeform, Set in the Skyward Sword Universe, so i did, this is a passion project
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2019-09-22 11:59:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 46,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17059385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndelynKinsey/pseuds/AndelynKinsey
Summary: Skyloft is quaint, and life there reflects that, but within this tiny village are a myriad of stories.  This is but one of them: the story of a songbird and her eagle, and the life they lived in the clouds.*~* Author's Note *~*These are several characters that make appearances in the  Sky to Earth series,  specifically Link's parents, Orel and Larke.  It started off as an entirely self-indulgent one-shot that evolved into a full story.  It's a passion project that I update when I have time or my creativity is flowing well, and other stories (specifically those in the Sky to Earth series) take precedence over it.  But if I get stuck in that world, this is often where I come to play.  If you liked Link's parents in What We Did Before, I hope you'll enjoy this.





	1. The Eagle's Awakening

The Eagle's Awakening

* * *

 

The sky was a crystal blue, barely any clouds.  It was perfect flying weather though on days like this it tended to be noisy.  The backdrop of wind was a comfort, a constant rush in the ears. Without it, windless days in the sky were filled with loftwing calls, the low din of voices from the Bazaar and, on this particular afternoon, the gruff voice of an angry student who attended the Skyloft Knight Academy.

Orel tripped over the frame of the Sparring Hall door, spitting furiously at Captain Albertos as he dragged him inside the building by the back of his tunic.  “Get off me,” Orel growled, shoving the older knight’s arm away and pushing his white blonde hair out of his eyes. “Why did you bring me here?”

Albertos ignored this and walked to the sword rack, grabbing one of the sharper swords by the hilt.  He looked at Orel and the tension in his wiry frame, the agitation on his face, the blood on his fists. “I assumed you felt like fighting,” he said, tossing the sword in Orel’s direction.  “At least it seemed that way out there with Cregger.”

“ _He started it_!  He called my brother lazy and-“

“Ugo couldn’t care less what anyone thinks.  He knows better,” Al said flatly, gesturing towards the sword at Orel’s feet.  “And he probably doesn’t want you fighting his battles for him either.”

“You have no clue what he wants. You have no idea what _anyone-_ “

Orel wasn‘t able t finish, for at that moment Albertos lunged at him, sword drawn, forcing him to arch and shuffle to the side to avoid being struck. Orel glared at the older man, torn between rage and shock. “Did you just fucking-“

“You wanted to fight so badly, let’s fight. Pick up your sword.”

“ _Fuck you_!”

“What? Am I not as good of a target as Cregger? Too much of a challenge?”

“He targets me because-“

“Because you make it easy by reacting to everything,” Albertos scolded.

“I’m not going to _sit there_ and let him talk shit about-“

Orel yelped as Albertos lunged again, a decidedly practical expression on his face that made Orel even more enraged. “Pick up your sword, Orel. I won’t ask you again,” the man threatened.

 _“_ You know what _? Fine!”_ Orel snarled as he picked up the sword at his feet, gripping it loosely at the tip of the hilt, hand shaking so hard the he could see it in the blade. _“_ You pacifistic asshole, lets fight.”

Albertos stared back, calm as ever; This was simply another sparring session to him. Orel’s breathing was heavy, his mind spinning while trying to think of a move to start with, but for some reason all he could think about was his father. How his father had taught him to strike, how his father had taught him to dodge, and how his father had always said Albertos’ calm nature made him a good captain.

Albertos was patience and tolerance incarnate, and Orel thought it made him weak. He _never_ reacted, not when someone insulted him or questioned his position, not when someone challenged him or a knight stepped completely out of line. He scolded or took them aside, but never yelled, never engaged. It seemed a waste, Orel thought. Sometimes you _had_ to fight, you couldn’t just look away, you had to stand up. Like when people insulted your family, your work, your character. Or were just an insufferable asshole like Cregger was.

Orel lunged forward, sword raised, but Albertos dodged with barely more than a glance in his direction. He spun and swung wildly, and Albertos blocked each blow with a lazy shield raise.  Downward slice, blocked again. Feint left, then swipe right. Blocked again. Enraged, Orel took the sword in two hands, but was thrown backward when Albertos parried each strike with his shield. Every move Orel attempted, Albertos countered. Every feint he tried to pull off, the man saw right through it.

But he wasn’t going to give up. Goddess _damn it all_ , he didn’t care anymore. All he could feel was raw, unabated anger. Anger at Cregger for his repeated insults, anger at Ugo for his incessant nagging and for pretending he was just like their father. Anger at Corbin and Nestor for their constant meddling, anger at Heron for his stoicness and Jay for his flippancy.  And anger at Albertos for his perpetual calm, no matter what chaos was going on around him, be it village in crisis or the loss of a friend and brother in knighthood.

Orel wanted to break something. _Anything_. Tear it to pieces, beat it into oblivion, and if Albertos wanted to put himself in that path so be it. They could fight for hours.

And hours. And hours...

Now and then, amidst the hacking, swinging, and a constant stream of swear words from Orel, Albertos would back away to make a quick observation. A comment about Orel’s form, a suggestion on a sword technique. These little critiques bounced off Orel’s swings, his mind too clouded to pay them any attention. Mindless words, mindless rage.  It was all mindless, and meaningless, and -

“You advertise your next move so clearly, Orel,” Albertos said, interrupting Orel’s trail of thought.  You aren’t focused, you’re flailing. You are so angry that-“

“I’m angry because you’re _insufferably calm_!”

“I stayed insufferably calm and still blocked every move you tried,” Albertos said with a shrug, ignoring Orel’s angry growl. “Blind anger doesn’t do you any good. You’ve got to clear your head. Talk to me, what’s on your mind?”

“ _Nothing_!” Orel screamed, hauling himself off the floor and going in for another strike, determined to land at least one. Albertos braced his shield, deflecting the blow so effortlessly it sent Orel reeling backward in a jumble of uncoordinated limbs.  

“I don’t believe that for a minute, and neither do you. Tell me what-”

“It’s nothing!” roared, his throat burning with every word. “It’s… it’s… Cregger’s an _ass_ and keeps talking about my brother, or making fun of me anytime I slip up on class and-“

“He does it it because you react.”

Orel snarled and threw his sword, watching it stick awkwardly into the wood. “So according to you I’m supposed to just take it and not-“

“That’s not what I’m saying. Of course I don’t want you to take it, but you _know_ better,” Albertos emphasized. “You are better than this, smarter than this. Let him run his mouth. He looks like an ass when he does it and-“

“Which is why I want to shut him up!”

“Even _if_ you shut him up, he still wins. You affirm everything he says about you being impulsive and having no self-control,” Albertos stressed, frowning when Orel glowered at the floor.  “Let him blow like the hot head he is. Just walk away, Orel, it’s not worth your time. If you feel like hitting something, hit me instead.”

“I’m supposed to find you and punch-”

“Don’t be a smart ass, you know what I mean. I’m sick of hauling you out of fights, or hearing about your brother hauling you out of them,” Albertos chided, frowning again at Orel’s defiant expression. “It’s a waste. You would be a hell of a swordsman if you put-”

“What’s the fucking point?” Orel asked, glowering at the dirt under his boots. “It’s not like it’ll do me any good.”

Albertos sighed heavily, the sound making Orel flinch. It was true though. What good had any of his sword training done him?  What good had it done Ugo? What good had it done his father?

“Orel, that was a horrible-”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Orel snapped. “It’s done. It’s over.  It doesn’t… this is stupid, this was stupid. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“That’s fine, we don’t have to talk. But the next time you get the urge to pound your fists into Cregger, or try to pick a fight with Gawain or your brother, come here instead. That’s not a request.”

“You’re not my father,” Orel muttered.

“But I _am_ your captain.” Albertos reminded him.

“I’m not a fucking knight.”

Albertos shrugged. “Maybe not yet, but I have no doubt you will be.”

He pulled the sparring sword out from the wall behind where Orel stood, giving him a sad little smile before walking to the rack.  “I mean it, Orel. Find me when you want to hit something. You’ve got a lot of untapped potential, I don’t want to see you waste it, your father wouldn’t want you to waste it.”

Orel huffed and stormed out, utterly exhausted and wanting more than to get away from Albertos and his overly kind eyes, the gentle smile he always had, and his ridiculous insistence that Orel was wasting his potential.  It was all a mess, and he was too frustrated and frazzled to care when Pollus glowered at him as he stormed in the dormitory, too weary to respond when Jay asked him what happened with Cregger, and too distracted by his rage to notice that his shirt had been torn from the collar to the shoulder.

“Ah, fuck,” he muttered when Jay pointed it out. “Ugo’s going to ream me for this. As though we can’t go buy a new shirt.”

“It wouldn’t take much to fix it, I bet,” Jay said, prodding his shirt while Orel jerked away.  

“You’re going to rip it more-”

Jay scoffed. “I’m just trying to see if it’s on the seam or-”

“I could mend it.”

The voice was quiet, almost indiscernible above the sound of Jay’s arguments and Orel’s grumbling. Orel turned to find it’s source, searching for someone looking a little shaken and definitely feminine. His eyes fell on Aya standing right outside of the dining hall, her roommate standing beside her, full lips parted as though she was trying to work up the courage to make a sound. Larke was her name though Orel swore this was the first time she’d ever spoken to him directly.

“You could?” Orel asked, his tone softening almost involuntarily. She looked tiny.  Not tiny like Aya was, being at least five or six inches taller, but tiny in her own way, pulled in on herself as though she was scared of taking up too much space.

Larke nodded, her cheeks very red now. Orel was sure her face wasn’t normally that color. He’d seen her in class often enough to know that much. It was hard not to see her in class since, for one, Aya was always beside her and always noticeable, and two, because she was rather pretty to look at, even folded in on herself like she was now.  She tucked her thick, blondish hair behind her long ears, which were also red all the way to the tips. _Maybe she blushes easy_ , Orel wondered.

“It… it wouldn’t take more than a few minutes if… if you want to bring it back to me tomorrow,” Larke murmured.

Aya nudged her, jerking her head towards Orel and smiling encouragingly. “Or… now,” Larke said, her voice rising in pitch. “I mean… I could fix it now, I guess. I could fix it now,” she offered, looking a little frightened by the prospect.

“Now _would_ be better,” Orel admitted. “I’ll catch hell if I go home with it like this. I don’t live-”

“I know. You… you don’t live in the dorms,” Larke finished for him in a wavering voice. She visibly swallowed, fidgeting nervously in front of her waist. “Just… uh… come with me. I can fix it now.”

Orel nodded, stepping back as Larke walked past him towards the stairs. He followed after her, and Aya followed him, snickering quietly until Orel turned around to glare at her.

“Don’t you give me dirty looks,” She said, glaring back at him. - “It isn’t my fault, or anyone else’s fault, that your shirt is ripped. That is all on you, Oral Orel.”

“Not you too. Don’t fucking-”

“ _Language_!”

“Oh, please. Like you never curse,” he snapped, turning away from Aya and watching Larke push open the door to their room. It was brighter than he expected, soft pinks and violets covering one side of the room and subtle reds and creams on the other. He did notice a stark difference in their covers when Larke crossed the room to dig for supplies under what must be her bed. Aya’s bed was blanketed with a lush quilt while Larke’s was covered in a thin blanket.  A smaller quilt lay at the foot of her bed, a very pleasant looking one. He wondered if Larke had made it herself.

“Here,” she said, gesturing to her bed. “If… if you want to sit down, I’ll just mend it-”

“Nah, I don’t want to mess up your covers,” Orel murmured, taking his shirt by the collar and pulling it over his head.  He handed it to Larke, who seemed frozen, gaping at him with wide eyes and blushing bright red again from the tips of her ears all the way to her neck.

“ _Larke_ ,” Aya said, her voice shaking with suppressed laughter.

Larke gasped, coming out of her state of shock and snatching the shirt out of Orel’s hand.  She turned away from him and sat down at a small desk tucked in the corner, focusing so hard on her stitching then it looked almost painful.

“Seriously, Aya… don’t call me that,” Orel said, turning back to face Larke’s roommate.

“Call you what?” she asked, lowering her hand from her mouth and giving him an appraising look.

“Oral Orel.”

“Why not?”

“Because it pisses me off,” he grumbled.  “That’s not how you pronounce my name. It’s Or-el not oral.”

“Cregger calls you that because you’re mouthy,” Aya pointed out.

“I don’t care. I still don’t-”

“You need to ignore him.  He’s a blowhard, everyone knows that. He says it to rile you up,” she continued, pushing past him to stand by Larke as she stitched his shirt.

“That’s not what happened today. He called my brother _lazy_ , said he was knighted out of pity and not because he has any skill. He said if he was a _real_ knight he… _whatever_!” Orel snarled, wishing Ugo would be the one kicking Cregger’s ass instead of him.  He could do it. Cregger may be built like a tree but Ugo was just as strong, and he was quick too.  Never failed to catch Orel off guard when they were sparring.

But instead of standing up for himself, he’d turned completely stoic, staying silent while the village and other knights gossiped behind his back, leaving Orel to stick out his neck as he tried to stop the insults and lies.  “He’s just… Cregger is mouthy, he’s one to call me mouthy, and I swear to Hylia if he says anything else about my family-”

“You know none of it’s true,” Aya scoffed. “Whatever he’s saying.  I know your brother a bit, he’s always hanging around Gaepora and Corvus, and he doesn’t seem lazy at all to me.”

“But still, Cregger shouldn’t say that stuff,” Larke mumbled as she finished up the stitching, tying a quick knot then lifting Orel’s shirt up for examination. “It’s needlessly cruel, and… terrible. It’s a _terrible_ thing for him to say,” she continued, standing up and staring at the floor as she handed Orel the finished product. “Here, it should be fine now.”

Orel took the shirt, lifting it and looking over the neck, marveling that he was barely able to tell where it had been ripped. “Thanks, you’re a lifesaver. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” Larke replied.

“What? No, that’s not right, let me give you-”

“No, it’s… it’s fine. It was no trouble, really. Anything you need- I mean… I don’t want you to get in trouble. It’s fine. I-I’m glad to help,” she stammered, stumbling a few times on her words, all the while staring at the floor.  

 _She’s so shy_ , Orel thought. He wondered how she and Aya got on so well when Aya was so outgoing and Larke seemed so timid.

“Well, either way, thank you. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, Orel,” she murmured, taking care to pronounce his name correctly, the small smile on her face tremulous as she fussed with the ends of her hair and glanced coyly up at him.

Orel nodded, overwhelmed with a sudden urge to try to get her talking.  Partly because he was curious as to why she wouldn’t take anything in return for stitching his shirt, but he also wanted to know what other classes she was taking, since he only knew of one they were in together.  He was about to start talking, but Heron stormed through the door, distracting him from prodding Larke any further.

“Cregger’s coming back, and he’s on about picking up where you left off this afternoon, after flattening him,” he panted. “Says you got in a cheap shot and-”

“Oh, fuck him,” Orel grumbled, turning away from Larke and Aya’s room and following Heron down the stairs to his dorm. “If he wants a fight, let him come find me. I’m not going to go looking for one now. I’m… I’m too tired,” he lied, looking back up the stairs and wondering what Larke and Aya were doing now.

* * *

 

“Damn, I forgot my pencil,” Orel muttered as he sat down next to Heron. “I have everything else but a stupid pencil.”

Heron looked at him curiously. “You never take notes.”

“I might start.”

“Cause you’re close to failing? That it?” Cregger asked from the row in front of them, smirking over his shoulder. “Maybe your memory is shot like your sword skills? I saw that sparring session earlier. Aya is the size of my thumb and she got the better of you.”

“She didn’t get the better of me,” Orel muttered. - “I missed a step, she knocked my shield away, and I yielded.”

“So you _let_ her win… I see how it is,” Cregger sneered. “Think if you’re nice to her, you can sweep in and charm her with those oral skills you have.”

“That is _not-_ ”

“Corvus dropped her, so she’s lonely and desperate now, though I can’t imagine after having him she’d want a scrawny thing like-”

“Corvus didn’t drop her.”

Everyone turned, again, to locate the quiet voice that had appeared out of nowhere. Larke was in the back of the classroom, as she always was, wide eyes peering out from a curtain of hair. _She’s talking_ , Orel thought as he turned around, a feeling of amusement overtaking him when he saw the intense look on Larke’s pretty face. He vaguely thought he should warn Cregger to be cautions. If Larke was anything like her roommate, she could be quick to swat him if he didn’t pay attention or got too cheeky.  

“ _She_ broke up with _him_. A week ago to be exact,” Larke snapped, a fire in her voice that Orel hadn’t expected. “She didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to spread gossip and he’s telling everyone now like it was his idea.”

Cregger scoffed. “That’s not how he tells it. He said he stuck it out longer than he wanted ‘cause she was crying and begging for him to-“

“He would say that,” Larke muttered, rolling her eyes and turning back to the paper in front of her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cregger asked, turning fully around to glare and Larke. “Oi, Wallflower. What’s that supposed to-”

“Leave her alone,” Orel interjected, suddenly protective of the girl in the back of class.  It was one thing if Cregger mouthed off to him, but Larke hadn’t done anything but defend her best friend.  Besides that, the way she flinched when Cregger shouted, it stirred up something primal in Orel that he didn’t quite recognize.

“She would know more than you because she’s Aya’s roommate. We all know how desperate Corvus gets when he doesn’t get his way so I expect he’s lying to save face.”

“Your brother would know something about that, wouldn’t he?” Cregger muttered.  

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Orel barked.

“Nothing.  Just that his little story about not getting to your house in time doesn’t really ring-”

Orel clenched his hands into fists. “If you say another thing about that I’m going -”

“Let him talk,” Larke said angrily. “It isn’t enough that everyone thinks he’s an idiot, he has to prove it by opening his mouth.”

Orel turned around, surprised again by the fierceness in Larke’s tone. Her cheeks were pink, and he noticed her eyes flick from him back to Cregger before they grew even redder.  

Cregger glowered for a second, then scoffed and turned to Heron. “Did you hear that?” he asked mockingly, tapping Heron on the shoulder when he tried to ignore him. “I swear, I heard a tiny bird or… what were those things we read about?  Mice, I think Pollus called them? Little rodent creatures that don’t exist anymore? Weak and useless?” he asked, chuckling when Heron pushed him off and turned back to his book. Cregger threw Larke a malicious sneer before turning to the front when Pollus came in. Orel watched Larke take a breath, then she turned back to the desk and began to organize her papers. He frowned and leaned over the table separating them.

“Hey, ignore him. He’s an ass,” Orel said gently, wondering why Larke looked at him with such a frightened expression.

“I-I know,” she said quietly, digging around in the small bag at her side. “Here.”

Orel held out his hand, watching Larke’s trembling one reach forward to place a pencil in his palm. “What’s this for?”

“You said you didn’t have one.”

Orel swallowed, his stomach doing a strange little swoop when his eyes met hers for a moment. _She’s awfully sweet_ , he thought. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, glancing nervously up front when Pollus cleared his throat. Orel turned around, settling onto the bench and fiddling with Larke’s pencil, curious again as to why she was so quiet despite obviously listening to everything around them.  It impressed Orel, mostly because math wasn’t his favorite subject, and the way Pollus taught it was dreadful to follow along with. He often wished there were a variety of teachers. It was only Pollus, Kaebora, and Gae as an apprentice right now. At least Gae knew how to make math a bit interesting.  Pollus just liked to lecture, mostly to himself it seemed.

When class ended, Orel turned around to hand Larke her pencil back, but she’d already packed up her things and was practically fleeing out the door, Cregger hot on her heels.  Orel jumped out of his chair and vaulted over the front desk to chase after him.

“Hey, blowhard,” Orel said, knowing he shouldn’t, knowing^ it was only going to bring havoc, but he couldn’t stop himself. That strange primal instinct kicked in again. Maybe it was years of chivalry driven into him finally rising to the surface, but something about how meek Larke seemed made him act, as impulsive and stupid as it may have been.   

“I think _some_ people might have a thing for this scrawny frame. After all,” Orel chuckled smugly, grinning when Cregger stopped chasing Larke to look at him.  “Porah kissed me first.”

Orel had only a second to dodge the punch Cregger threw in his direction. “Say it again, you little shit!” Cregger roared, growling at the smirk Orel had on his face. Cregger stalked forward and Orel braced himself for another punch or a shove or whatever would come next.

The hall was filled with people: Jay, Hawkin, Peater, Corvus, Gaepora, and, unfortunately, Orel’s brother. They all looked a little nonplussed at the scene in front of them, especially since class had just let out, which Orel hoped would give Cregger some pause, though apparently this hope was in vain.  

“I said say it again, you arrogant little shit,” Cregger snarled, bearing down threateningly on Orel, giving him a short, abrupt shove backward. Orel shoved him back. Barely. It was like pushing a giant tree.

“I said, she kissed _me_ first.”

Cregger made to grab him but Orel ducked, putting his shoulder into Cregger’s belly and slamming him into the wall behind them. Cregger roared, jabbing his elbow hard into Orel’s shoulder before several pairs of hands seized his tunic, pulling the two of them apart while Cregger and Orel shouted taunts at each other.

“She kissed you because she thought you were pathetic and needed-”

“I’m pathetic? You should look in a mirror once in a while.”

Cregger growled, straining against Corvus who was holding him back.   “I’m surprised you made it in here. I didn’t think knights were supposed to clean up the bird shit but somehow they let _you_ in.”

Orel laughed. “Good trash talk.”

“I’m not trash talking, I’m talking _to_ trash.”

“Says the guy whose bird threw him into the pond once because you hadn’t taken a bath in-”

“I’m surprised your bird sticks around,” Cregger sneered. “Your human guardians are gone, so I suppose he feels like he has to-”

Heron seized Orel by the back of his shirt but it was Ugo who stopped him from lunging. He jumped in between them, putting his broad hand against Orel’s chest and pushing him back against the wall.  Orel may be taller than Ugo, but Ugo would always be stronger.

“Kid, let him talk,” Ugo said, glowering over his shoulder at Cregger who was smirking wickedly while Corvus and now Gaepora had started to push him back.  “He’s only saying it-”

“ _I’m not a fucking kid_ ,” Orel growled, gripping Ugo by the tunic and trying in vain to push him off.  He wanted to hit something, mostly Cregger’s face, so angry he was shaking and sick to his stomach from grief and rage and-

“ _YOU_!”

The high-pitched shout cut off most of the arguing.  Orel was being held back by Heron and Ugo so he wasn’t able to see, but it wasn’t difficult to guess who was entering the fray by the flash of blonde hair that flew by him and headed towards where Corvus was restraining a now frightened looking Cregger.

“What kind of _knight_ are you?” Aya screeched, storming around Cregger to get right in Corvus’ face. “I let you down easy after you shout at me, kept my cool while you yelled about unfair it is… and now you’re going around calling _me_ desperate?”

Corvus blanched, his face reddening as Aya backed him into a wall with nothing but her glare and her hands clenched into fists at her side. “I wasn’t… I haven’t-“

“Cregger said you told him you stuck it out longer than _you_ wanted too, said _I_ was the one crying and whining. Like you’re worth any of my tears,” she snarled. “Wasn’t it in your vows to value character and speak the truth?”

Corvus glowered at Cregger, huffing loudly before turning back to a still glaring Aya. “I can’t help what he says. You know how-“

Aya pressed her palms against Corvus’ broad chest and pushed. Hard. He stumbled awkwardly along the wall and Orel had to stifle a laugh.  It constantly amazed him that though Aya was tiny, she seemed impossibly strong.

Gaepora blanched, looking torn between awe and concern. “Aya, that’s hardly appropriate.”

“Don’t you tell me what to do,” she snapped. “You’re not an instructor or knight or -“

“I am,” came Al’s voice.  

Orel turned, watching Al walk down the hall to where Aya was still glaring down Corvus.  “I’m surprised Pollus didn’t hear you all. I could hear you down in the sparring-“

“Pollus only listens to himself talk,” Aya scoffed.

Orel stifled another laugh, along with Heron behind him and Jay, Hawkin, and Peater down the hall.  Al on the other hand did not look amused.

“That’s disrespectful, Aya. I expect better of you.”

Aya flushed though she remained defiant. “What about him?” She asked, gesturing to Corvus. “Don’t you think it’s disrespectful for a knight to-“

“I will deal with him, trust me,” Al said. “You should move along. Go to your dorm or head to lunch. ”

Aya huffed, throwing one last glare at Corvus before retreating. Orel watched as she passed him and headed towards the cafeteria, Larke seemingly appearing out of nowhere and following behind her. Orel felt a tinge if embarrassment.  He wondered where she’d been standing and if she’d seen the exchange between him and Cregger.

Al didn’t say a word.  He looked at Corvus, Cregger, and Orel in turn and jerked his head, indicating they should follow.  Orel huffed, falling into step behind Corvus and alongside Cregger as they headed outside.

“Were not finished yet,” Cregger muttered under his breath.

“I’m sure we aren’t,” Orel muttered back.

* * *

 

“Ow.”

“Hold still.”

“I said _ow_!” Orel shouted as Ugo tried to clean the bloody scratch on his arm.  It was late afternoon and Ugo had just gotten home. He’d had to drag him, though it was less dragging and more carrying this time.  Orel had managed to land a punch right across Cregger’s face, but after that Cregger had picked him up and physically threw him into the sparring rack. He was covered in cuts now in addition to bruises, his left ankle a little swollen and a deep gash across his shoulder.

“Fucking… _stop_!” Orel growled, swatting Ugo’s hands away. “Are you using straight alcohol?”

“No, I watered it down,” Ugo said. “I know it burns but you have to clean it or-“

“Stop trying to talk like mom.”

Ugo blanked for a second, then threw the cloth he’d been using down on the table. “Why do you keep doing this? What are you trying-“

“I’m not trying to prove anything! Cregger’s an ass! Have you heard what he says about you and the fire and-“

“I couldn’t care less what he thinks, or anyone else for that-“

Orel jumped to his feet and kicked the chair he’d been sitting on over. “That’s exactly it!  You don’t care and you should! You act like-“

Ugo took a slow breath, exhaling loudly through his nose.  “Orel, I dragged you out of another fight, kicked my girlfriend out, and now I’m cleaning you up!  Don’t tell me-“

“Because you’re embarrassed! Not because you care that Cregger is talking shit about and me and everything that happened!” Orel shouted. “You should be the one punching him-“

“There’s no point-“

“To shut him up!  That’s the point!”

“You’ll notice he never says this stuff to me, only to you, because he gets a rise out of you!  It’s the same with Jay, he picks on you two because -“

“Because he’s an asshole!”

“I’m not denying that, but he and Jay don’t get into fights!” Ugo screamed.  “Why can’t you just… _stop_! You’re going to get hurt or-“

“What the fuck does it matter?” Orel interrupted, swallowing back the surge of emotion. “It doesn’t!  None of this matters it’s all...we live here and it’s still a shell of a house and… and…”

He lost the words. They wouldn’t come.  If they did, it would mean admitting the truth: all Orel wanted to do was go home.

“Kid, I get-“

Orel growled and pushed Ugo back, unmoved by the rage filled glare his brother threw him. “Stop calling me that! I’m not your fucking _kid_!”

Ugo glowered, then threw up his hands and stormed across the house to his room. Orel stood in the kitchen for a moment, then stalked out the door, unable to stay in the house any longer.  

* * *

 

“Orel, take a breath.”

Orel inhaled, trying very hard to breathe out slowly.  It was difficult because he was panting, a bit over exerted from sparring for the last hour, but also because he was still so very angry.

“My arm is sore,” Al said with a hint of amusement. “You’re doing well, you caught me off guard a few times.”

“What does it matter?”

“It means you’re getting better. You’re getting stronger, and quicker, and you’re learning to read moves ahead of time,” Al said encouragingly.  “I know you only come here to avoid a fight, which I applaud you for, but you’re so naturally talented you could be-“

“But what does it matter?!” Orel shouted. “Al, when… when am ever going to need to use this stuff? I can’t take a sword to Cregger, or anyone else who infuriates me. What good does this do?”

Al sighed, unstrapping his shield from his wrist and setting it on the floor. - “You’re right, most of this you’ll never use. But I’ve taken the head off a skytail or two. It’s useful then.”

“Skytails are one thing, but why does it matter how perfect I can parry something? Why does it matter if I can out maneuver you?”

“It’s tradition, and history, and it’s better than sitting around and growing soft and lazy,” Al said. “Your dad still sparred regularly, he and Corbin-“

“And what good did it do him?” Orel asked, choking on the words.  “He couldn’t save my mom, or me, or himself in the end.”

Orel stowed the sword he’d been using in the rack, then slumped down against the wall, his fingers buried deep in his hair. A moment later he felt Al’s presence beside him, though he didn’t bother looking up.

“When Lu- I mean, when your mom was pregnant with you, everyone was talking. Pregnancy is always celebrated, but to have two so healthy and close together… it was almost unheard of,” he said quietly. “Your dad was so happy, but he was so scared too.”

“Why? Was mom sick or-“

“No, nothing like that. Your dad always thought ahead to… the worrisome parts of life.  Ugo was still a toddler and someday, Hylia willing, you’ll learn that toddlers on Skyloft are the most at risk people in the village. It takes all of us to keep them safe, and to imagine having two of them…”

Al chuckled, then let out a long sigh. “Your dad said the same things to Jonar as you’re saying to me. When will we use this? But as soon as Ugo and you were able to hold a sword he was teaching you how to swing them.”

“It still didn’t save him in the end.”

“His sword was the last thing on his mind that night,” Al said quietly. “You and your mother were his first, and you know they did - and we did- everything to try to -“

“Ugo didn’t wake me up,” Orel interjected, shuddering and gripping his hair tighter as he thought back to that night.  “Dad did. I could hear him shouting. He and my mom. That’s what woke me up, not Ugo.”

“We guessed as much. Corbin and Talon got there before I did, before it really… took off,” Al murmured, grimacing slightly. “Corbin said both your parents were shouting for them to-“

Orel didn’t want to hear it. He made a groaning noise and stood abruptly, itching uncontrollably to hit something again. “I can’t rehash this again. It just… it doesn’t do any good.”

“I suppose you’re right, but it doesn’t do any good to tuck it away either. Have you and Ugo-“

“I can’t talk to him,” Orel snapped. “All he does is- he acts like nothing happened. Like it didn’t affect him at all! And he tries to act like dad and mom but he is _not_ -“

“I can understand why that’s frustrating, but Ugo is hurting as well, even if he doesn’t show it. You two should-“

“If he was hurting, he wouldn’t be letting Cregger talk shit about him!” Orel snapped. “Or he would cry, or be angry, or he’d feel something!”

“Perhaps you’re feeling it all for him,” Al suggested. “You’re feeling all of his rage and grief for him, and it’s leaving him no room because he has to take care-“

“He doesn’t have to take care of me,” Orel growled. “I’m sixteen. I’ll be seventeen in the fall.  I’m practically a man I can take care of-“

“If you’re practically a man, you really should start acting like one.”  

Albertos’ words were stern, but his tone was soft, as though this transition from boyhood to manhood was a gentle one.  Orel scoffed half-heartedly, half of him wanting to rage and the other half wanting to collapse again. Act like a man. Like which man?  Like Albertos who was always calm, collected, and ready to listen, or like his Dad who was gentle but firm and always wise? Like Corbin who openly experienced all the emotions, or like Ugo who showed barely any?

These were the men he looked up to, but Orel wasn’t like any of them. He never would be; he didn’t know how to be.

“Thanks for letting me… spar...with you,” Orel murmured, hauling himself to his feet. . I know it wasn’t planned or-“

“Orel, I’ve told you before. Anytime you need to hit something or you want to talk, come find me,” Al said from the floor, a gentle smile on his face.  Orel nodded, still torn between emotions as he turned and walked out the door into the rainy afternoon.

* * *

 

“Let go of me,” Orel snarled, digging his heels into the dirt as Ugo dragged him down the path.  “I said _let go!_ ”

“So you can go back there and beat his head in more?” Ugo shouted, practically picking Orel up by the back of his shirt and throwing him forward. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Orel stumbled as he whirled around to face Ugo.  “You didn’t hear him! You didn’t-”

“So what? What does it matter? You can’t punch everyone if they insult you or-”

“It wasn’t an insult to me!” Orel spat. “It was about you!  I’ve spent the last eight moons defending you and-”

“I don’t need you to defend me!”

“Of course not!  Because you’re some hero for it all, and for not having any feelings about what happened!” Orel spat, balling his fists up and stalking back towards the Academy. Ugo put his hand on his chest to hold him back, but Orel tore it off and continued forward.  Ugo turned and tried to grab him by the shoulder, but Orel whirled around and swatted his arm away. When Ugo tried a third time to restrain him, grabbing his tunic to slow him down, Orel spun and grabbed Ugo by the collar, snarling down into his older brother’s face.    

“WHY DON’T YOU REACT?!” Orel screamed.  “Why don’t you feel anything?!”

“Why do you feel it all like _this_?” Ugo shouted, bracing again when Orel tried to shake him.

They began to wrestle, Orel trying valiantly to push Ugo into the grass or throw him into the dirt, but despite the few inches he had on Ugo it wasn’t enough.  Ugo was too strong, and it was all Orel could do to not wrap his hands around Ugo’s neck and throttle him. Punch that sad look off his face, shake him until he felt something.  Orel was furious that Ugo had no idea what he was going through, he was enraged that Ugo was so willfully ignorant about what everyone was saying. Lies about what happened that night, rumors about Ugo not even trying to save their parents, constant praise for how strong Ugo had been and how much of a mess Orel-

“ _What the hell is happening_?” Al shouted, emerging from his front door and looking - for the first time Orel had ever seen - decidedly furious. “It’s after sunset and-”

“I had to pull him off of Cregger after-”

“Cregger and Corvus were on again about-”

“Hylia, curse it all!” Al snarled, stepping onto his front step and gesturing inside. “Both of you get in here.  I’m so tired of this!”

“ _You’re_ tired of it?” Orel snapped, throwing Ugo off when he pushed him towards the door.  “You aren’t living with it day in and day out! He feels nothing!” he shouted, pointing wildly at Ugo. “Nothing at all!  Everyone is gone and-”

“I feel _nothing_ ?” Ugo roared back, his face reddening around his cheekbones. “How do I have time to feel _anything_ when I have to look after you!”

“You don’t need to look after me! I’m fine!”

Ugo let out a humorless laugh. “Right, you’re completely fine. Beating Cregger’s head in, trying to pick a fight with Gawain, or Corvus, or anyone who will entertain-”

“Because I’m trying to defend you!”

“What the hell do you need to defend me from that I can’t-”

“ _They’re all saying you didn’t try to get mom and dad out!_ ” Orel bellowed, shaking uncontrollably as he stared down Ugo, Albertos lingering behind him. “They’re saying you didn’t even try! That if you had, you’d have been able to get them out. And I know that’s not true! It’s not… I know you tried!  You tried to… to get...”

Orel trailed off, watching as Ugo’s expression shifted from anger to… pain. He’d stood up straighter, almost like he was taking a step back. Orel’s stomach dropped to his feet, the persistent pain he’d been feeling in his chest intensifying to an almost unbearable level.

“Ugo. _Ugo_ … tell me it’s - tell me they’re just being assholes. Tell me it’s not true, that you tried to get mom and dad, that you… you went for them _first_ and not for-”

“It wasn’t like that,” Ugo snapped, sounding desperate and anguished.  He pulled his red cap off, pushing his hands through his white-blond hair before covering his face. His breathing was visible, shoulders and chest lifting as he tried to compose himself.

“It wasn’t… I got there before everyone else did, yeah, but… it wasn’t like I had time to debate!”  He shook his head, grimacing as he rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. “I got there and the fire was… it was everywhere. In the trees and the grass and… all _over_ the house.  I heard… I heard mom and dad shouting at you, and I just… I went-”

“You went for _me_ first?” Orel yelped, his heart sinking into the floor. “Why? _Why_ would you go for _me_ first? Dad was… and _mom_ … Ugo, _why_?”

Ugo didn’t respond. Instead he stared at the Orel’s shoes, hands trembling as they fell to his sides.  Al stood behind him, a sympathetic look on his face as they waited for Ugo to speak, Orel growing increasingly impatient as the time passed.

“ _Ugo_ -”

“I went for you because I’m supposed to _protect_ _you_ ,” he blurted, voice wavering. “No one else has a little brother. I’m the only one, and ever since… ever since we were kids, I wanted to protect you.  You were _my_ little brother and I wasn’t going to let anything happen…”

He paused, taking another breath, gesturing almost apologetically to no one in particular.  “When I heard mom and dad yelling and realized you weren’t with them, that you may not even be _awake_ , I… I didn’t even think.  I went straight to your window to get you out.”  

Ugo sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve and turning away from Orel’s gaze, arms foldeding over his chest.  “By the time I got you out it was too late. I had thought… I’d thought we’d be able to get to them, pry open a door or something, but Corbin and Talon were already there and trying it. The flames were too much, no one could get close. Then it all just… _collapsed_ and the fire … it went wild and I couldn’t do anything but watch because no one would let me go close. They told _me stay with your brother_ , cause you were coughing and bleeding and… there was nothing I could do.”

Orel gaped at his brother, heart in a thousand pieces all over again. Ugo was shaking, his hands pressed over his face, taking deep breaths it seemed. Al walked forward and put his hand on Ugo’s shoulder, murmuring quietly, the way a parent would when trying to comfort a child who’d confessed to wrong doing. Orel took a few cautious steps toward them, trying to remember anytime in his life when he’d seen Ugo cry.  

“... couldn’t have done anything more,” Al was saying. “Your mom and dad would tell you the same thing.”

Ugo only nodded, dragging his hands down his face staring into the distance, his eyes fixed nowhere in particular. Orel cleared his throat, waiting until Ugo looked over his shoulder to start speaking.

“You… you’re,” He started, clearing his throat again to push back the achy feeling in his eyes.  “You’re not the only one who was told to look out for a sibling,” he mumbled. “No one else has a little brother, but no one else has a big brother either. How… Ugo, what am I supposed to do? Let everyone say bad things about you?”

“They’re not bad if they’re true,” Ugo mumbled.  

“They’re not true,” Orel insisted.  “You’re not lazy. You’re not emotionless, or dense or-”

“Orel, I know all that. And you know that. I don’t care about what anyone says because I know-”

“But I care. _I_ care. I can’t stand to hear anyone talk about my big brother like that, like I can’t stand anyone saying dad could have gotten mom out, or they could have done anything at all.  I don’t like being called an orphan, or pitied, or the way people stare at us… like we’re so sad and we have nothing now,” Orel said, wiping his hand across his face as wetness dripped down his cheeks. “It infuriates me, and I don’t… I don’t know what to do with it. I miss mom cause she… I hated it sometimes but I just want her to hug me.  And I miss dad because he always knew what to do.”

Orel sniffed, wiping his face again.  “I miss my brother, too.”

“I’m still here,” Ugo murmured, finally looking up at Orel.

“Not when you’re acting like dad or trying to be mom.  I miss you and… doing stupid things together and you always having my back and-“

“I still have your back, Orel!  I always will but…”. Ugo sighed, grimacing again. “I _have_ to be dad. And mom. I’m supposed to take care of you, I have to be responsible and-”

“Ugo, I can take care of myself.”

“You’re getting in fights, Orel,” Ugo said flatly. “Almost every day. What would… I mean, if I’m going to be your brother, I’d ask you to think about mom. I mean, what would she think?  She’d be horrified.”

Orel flushed, scuffing the floor with his toe. “I wouldn’t be fighting if you would stand up and say something to defend yourself.”

M“What’s the point? They’re going to talk anyway.”

“Maybe. But if you said stop, maybe they would,” Orel suggested quietly. He watched Ugo nod, then sigh as he looked up at him. His eyes were still wet.

“Kid-”

“Please don’t call me kid.”

Ugo laughed once. “I’ve always called you that, it’s hard to stop.”

“It’s different now.”

“I know,” Ugo chuckled, his tone steadier now.  “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Orel replied, shoving his hands into his pockets while Ugo took a step closer to him.

“Orel,” he said, looking as though he was trying to choose his words carefully.  “I... as much as I appreciate you standing up for me, Cregger is three times your size and-”

“I can flatten him”

“That’s not the point. You are all I have left,” Ugo said, sounding both earnest and a little embarrassed. “Responsibility aside, if something happened to you I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do.”

Orel frowned and put a hand on Ugo’s shoulder. “I really can take care of myself.”

Ugo smiled. “It never hurts to have someone looking out for you, too.”

“Yeah, well you said you have my back, so…” Orel pointed out, smiling when Ugo grinned at him and nodded.  “Plus I’ve got Jay, and Heron. And you have Gae, and Calla-“

“Had Calla,” Ugo corrected.  “That ended about a week ago.”

“Oh.  Sorry, man.”

Ugo shrugged.  “She’s gonna be happier.  I’m all right with it.”

Orel nodded.  “Who knows… maybe someday I’ll get a... girlfriend or something.”

“I’ll pity the poor girl if she ever wants you to cook for her,” Ugo said, a teasing smile on his face as Orel shoved him backward.

“Speaking of cooking,” Al said, interrupting their playfight. “I expect it’s been a while since the two of you have eaten anything reminiscent of what your mother made. Come on, I’ll teach you how to make an omelet at the very least.”

Ugo nodded, giving Orel a small smile before throwing his arm around his neck and playfully ruffling his hair as they wandered into the kitchen.

* * *

 

Color day marked the middle of spring and a return of color to the island.  The entire village usually came out to watch the Academy students and children perform the ceremonial ribbon dance around a new flagpole pole, some of them clapping with the music while others just stared.  Orel didn‘t mind the dance, but he hated the staring. He was already stared at enough, he wanted to avoid it as often as he could.

The good thing about the holiday was the morning, and the community breakfast they had. Henya and the instructors always made a large breakfast for knights and students as they were running the event and would be busy all day.  And it was for this breakfast that Orel and Ugo dragged themselves out of bed, walking from their house to the Academy to join the others.

There were times Orel wondered what it would be like to live at the dorms instead of at home with Ugo. He crashed in Heron and Jay’s room every so often and it seemed like there was always something going on, despite their insistence that it was boring. At least they had each other to talk to, not to mention the girls that lived on the upper floor.

“Eh, even with them around it’s still quiet,” Heron said when Orel brought it up again.  “Really, it’s just as boring here as it is at home.”

Jay shrugged. “I don’t know, things can get interesting. Eve is fun to flirt with.”

“When she’s not starting at Cregger with Porah,” Heron muttered.

“They _still_ aren’t going out?” Orel asked. “The way Cregger talks and how jealous he gets I thought they started dating months ago.”

Heron shook his head. “Nah, you put a wrench in that because you two encourage each other to fight and Porah flat out refuses to have anything to do with Cregger until he, in her words, ‘gets his feathers together and acts like a gentleman.’”

Orel grimaced.  Ever since his talk with Ugo, he’d stayed clear of Cregger and his insults. Walking away in anger many times, but he’d stayed clear. Al had been getting most of his time lately, which had made Orel sore through the shoulders, back, and down his legs. It hurt, yes, but it was also exciting. He may actually develop some muscle if he kept at it.

“You know who else is fun to flirt with,” Jay said, elbowing Orel in the ribs. “Hey, Larke, where’s Aya?”

Orel turned, his stomach doing a funny little swoop as he did. Larke had been walking down the hall past the kitchen, her toothbrush clutched in one hand. Her hair was in a long braid, save for a few shorter strands around her neck and two longer portions in front of her ears.  She also had on a rather baggy shirt, perhaps one she slept in, and pants that made her legs look very long considering her height. Orel smiled as she came closer to their table, amused by the blush already spreading across her face.

“She’s… she’s coming down for breakfast, why do you ask?” Larke said quietly.

“When are you gonna make pancakes again?” Heron asked before Jay could respond.

“I don’t… know. Whenever Henya takes a day off and there’s-”

“You should make them today. Everyone is here,” Heron said, gesturing to the full kitchen.  “There’s still time. Henya is a great cook but her pancakes are… you make them better. Can you make some, _please_ Larke?”

Larke fidgeted with her toothbrush, looking embarrassed though Orel thought he saw the hint of a smile on her face. “The festival starts in two hours, I don’t have time to make-”

“They can’t take that long,” Jay piped in. “And Orel’s never had your pancakes since he doesn’t live here.  You should make them special for him.”

“She doesn’t - you don’t have to do that,” Orel said gently, fighting back the urge to reach out and touch Larke on the arm. He smiled at her, watching the blush on her cheeks grow more pronounced as she looked back at him.

“I-I mean…I _guess_ I could,” she offered, looking at him while gesturing to the kitchen. “It’s going to take a bit, and I don’t know how-”

“Don’t listen to him,” Aya said, coming down the hall and standing by Larke.  She scowled at Heron, putting her arms protectively around Larke’s waist. “Heron, learn to make pancakes yourself.”

“They won’t be as good!’

“Too bad!  She’s nice enough to make them for everyone when Henya takes a day off, don’t ask her to jump up and make them for all the knights and students at random. Haven’t you _seen_ how much some of these men eat?”

Jay snickered. “Awh, come on.  She offered to when I said Orel never gets-”

“Orel can take care of himself,” Aya insisted, smirking at him for some reason. “But come to think of it, it would do you well to learn how to make pancakes. Some people really like them.”

For some reason Larke turned to glare at her, but it was very brief. Her expression returned to normal a second later, then she sighed.

“Next time Henya is gone, I’ll make pancakes if you make sausage,” she said to Heron.

“Deal,” Heron grinned in reply.

“I’m going to go brush my teeth now.”

“Now?” Orel asked, strangely sad she was leaving.  “You should eat something first. There’s plenty of food.”

“I was… up earlier. I ate before everyone came,” she said quietly, a sheepish look on her face.  Orel frowned, disappointed as he watched her turn and walk to the Academy washroom. He stared at the door for a while, long enough that Jay and Aya both started to snicker.

“What’s funny?” Orel asked, surlier than intended.

“Nothing,” Aya said with an amused sigh. “I imagine if you tried to make pancakes, they’d be pretty dense.”

“They would,” Jay said with a laugh, drawing a glare from Orel. “But if he had the right teacher…”

“ _If_ is the key word there,” Aya said, smirking at Orel as she sauntered into the kitchen.  Orel watched her go, thinking they were insulting him somehow but he wasn’t going to rise to it.  He was really trying to keep his impulses in check.

By the time Orel, Jay, and Heron walked out of the Academy, the bazaar tent had been removed and replaced with a large pole. Ribbons adorned the top draped down onto the square, creating little pools of color against the gray stone.  The area was crowded with knights and congress members putting up flags while village commoners wandered about setting out food and treats. Color Day wasn’t as large of a festival as others, Orel was always fond of the fresh fruit pastries they put out and the honey wine that came into season.

The ribbons seemed brighter this year, or there were simply more of them. This would be a pole they posted along the flag line this year, rather than sending it to the sparring hall for practice. Fourteen dancers were participating, every child on the island between the ages of ten and seventeen. Sometimes if there were fewer dancers the knights jumped in to carry ribbons, but not this year, or the next two Orel thought. After that it would start to dwindle, but he’d be knighted by then and could help out he supposed. He didn’t mind the dance after all.

“Should we fall in? Nothing else to do until it starts,” Heron said, gesturing to the Square and the pole.  

Orel nodded, following Heron toward the square, glancing over his shoulder at the group of girls in the year below him as they filtered into the crowd after he and Heron did. Orel’s class was all boys, but the year below him was mostly girls save for Hawkin and Peater, who Orel though were best friends by default since all the girls seemed close.

Zipporah was leading the girls, but perhaps Orel only thought that because she was the tallest.  Eve stuck close by her side, eager to bask in her shadow, while Aya and Larke brought up the rear arm in arm with one another. Orel paused, watching as Aya whispered something to Larke that made her start laughing.  She tossed her long hair over her shoulder, thick and shining in the sun. Orel noticed for the first time how strange the color of it was, like honey more so than blonde. She had on a fitted red dress now instead of a baggy shirt, highlighting how her waist curved out into her hips, then into her legs, which were bare starting right below her knees.  They really were as long as they’d looked this morning...

“Hey, Orel,” Heron said. “Come on, lets go.  What are you looking at?”

Orel didn’t say anything, just sputtered a few times, like a baby loftwing begging for food.  Larke had been in his class for months, and he’d seen her often in the halls. This morning he saw her in the cafeteria, but it struck him then that he’d never really _seen_ her before… or maybe he hadn’t been paying attention.

“She’s… wow.  She’s… she’s _gorgeous_.”

“Who?” Heron asked, chewing a pastry he’d grabbed from one of the snack tables, following Orel’s gaze as he walked to his side.  

“Larke.”

“Larke?”

“ _Yeah_ !” Orel said, an uncontrollable smile spreading across his face. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Usually she was blushing and looking a nervous, but now she was… _smiling_ .  There was still a blush on her cheeks, but she was smiling so brightly the sun above her looked pale. And she was _laughing_.  Orel could hear it faintly from across the square and all he wanted to do now was cross the stone arena and get her attention.  He wanted to be the one making her smile, or laugh, or anything...

“You’re just now noticing this?” Heron chuckled.

“Well, I mean… I knew she was _pretty_ , but… I guess I wasn’t paying attention,” he said, thinking of the layers she usually wore over skirts, and her hair she usually had braided at the ends. Did she try to hide it?  How utterly beautiful she was? Did she not know?

“She’s hot,” Orel said quietly.  “Just… look at her!”

“Yeah, she’s nice to look at,” Heron chuckled.  “You should see her when she’s coming back from the bath.”

“I’d like to.”

Heron snickered.  “She likes red it seems, wears it a lot. Too bad you like blue.”

“I could learn to like red,” Orel murmured, chewing his lip and thinking he’d like any color Larke chose to wear.  

“I bet you could. Come on, let’s do this stupid thing.”

Orel nodded, keeping his gaze on Larke as Heron grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him towards the pole. Orel stood close to a blue ribbon, Heron a few paces away while Jay hopped in beside him. Others began filling in around the pole, Aya next to Heron, Porah close to where Cregger was, Eve, Peater, Hawkin, Rhea, Kessa… all the children and teenagers on the island finding a spot around the pole. Larke took a spot between Hawkin and Peater, two spots away from where Orel was.

The music started, violins and a single flute whistling out a joyful, slow-paced song that signaled everyone to start moving. The dance was easy: skip to the rhythm one way, stop and twirl with a partner, then skip again, but Orel’s chagrin he ended up being too far away from Larke to twirl with her.  The first round she was with Jay, then Eve the next time. After a few more loops while the music grew steadily faster, all the dancers moved towards the pole to take ribbons, resuming the pattern a few more times before starting to weave in and out to wrap the colored fabric around the pole.

They’d finished the final rotation around the pole, meaning more twirling was about to begin, so Orel decided to act.  He seized Jay by the collar of his shirt and tugged furiously to get his attention.

“Switch me spots.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it,” Orel demanded, almost pushing Jay aside to take the green ribbon he’d been holding. They were still all walking, though it was slowing, and Orel managed to catch the ribbon as the music slowed to indicate the next phase.

Larke was breathless when he reached her side, giggling with her bright eyes fixed on the pole in front of them, a red ribbon clutched tight in her hand.   _Her eyes are blue_ , he thought. Not like his, a deeper blue, like the stream in front of his house.

“Hey, Larke,” Orel grinned, a spike of joy rising in his chest as she turned to look at him. She was still smiling, at _him_ this time, and he had taken her by the elbow when it happened.

Larke gasped, then her cheeks went from a soft pink to pale white. As they rotated her foot caught onto Orel’s, causing them both to stumble though he made every effort he could to catch her. She tried to stop herself at the same time, and somehow they ended up spinning in a quick circle, Orel clutching her arms to keep her upright. When they stood the red ribbon in her hands was wrapped around his shoulders, pinning his arms to his sides.  

“Oh!  Oh, I’m so _sorry_!” Larke breathed, sounding utterly horrified. The progression of the dance came to an abrupt halt though the music was still playing. Larke began to furiously tug on the ribbons to try to get Orel free.

“Here, let me-“

“I think if you go left-“

“One second and I can-“

“No, _left_ Larke,” Orel laughed, very amused by her frantic attempts to free him. Frustrated she tried tugging on it, then tried backing up her footsteps, but it only wound tighter around him.  Orel laughed and shook his head to stop her.

“Oh, Goddess... _I’m so sorry_ , Orel!” She wailed, looking close to tears. Orel chuckled and spun to the left, wiggling as he did to unwind the ribbon. He could hear a few snickers, Jay close by who was smirking at him and he briefly saw Heron and Aya across the square, Aya looking guilty as she stifled a laugh.

He pulled the end of the ribbon free at last and turned to face Larke, utterly overwhelmed by how… _cute_ she was. Red faced, trembling, and completely mortified he knew (he wasn’t exactly comfortable) but she was breathtakingly adorable and all he wanted to do was make her smile again.

“Goddess, this is _humiliating_ ,” she mumbled from behind her hands. “I’m _so_ sorry, Orel, I-“

“You know,” he chuckled, leaning closer than necessary while handing back her ribbon. “If you wanted to tie me up, you could have just asked.”

Orel smirked, impressed with his quip while Larke squeaked and turned redder, eyes bright blue and wide as rupees. _Tie me up, please_ , he thought. _Do anything you want to me, I don’t care. Just kiss me, you adorable girl. Or maybe I should kiss you…_

There was a sharp flourish of music, signaling the dance could begin again. Larke gasped and fell back into formation, Orel behind her for a few steps before they started to weave in and out of one another, braiding the ribbons in a random pattern around the pole.  He passed her a few more times, unable to stop smiling at the way she blushed at him.

When the dance finished, there was clapping from the surrounding villagers and a few snickers from other dancers. Orel saw Aya laugh then fold Larke into a hug, patting her gingerly on the back. He started to cross the square, desperate to talk to her, but to his horror he saw Ugo standing behind where Larke and Aya were smirking at him. Ugo glanced at Larke, then turned back to him with a smirk.  Orel frowned, feigning nonchalance as his heart sank. Aya had hurried Larke off to the waiting snack tables further away from him, it would be too obvious if he tried to talk to her now.

“What was that about?” Heron laughed as he came to stand by Orel. “What did you say to her? Jay said it was cheeky.”

“I told her if she wanted to tie me up she could have asked,” Orel said, grinning when Heron laughed. “She’s something.”

“Ask her out.”

“I can’t do that!” Orel said. “I have to know she likes me first.”

“Why?”

“Cause… I… because. I’m gonna flirt with her a bit, maybe not so-”

“Suggestively?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Orel admitted. “But not like this. Something a little more subtle.”

“Orel, you’re about a subtle as a brick.”

“I can be subtle. You watch, I’m gonna get her to like me, just wait.”

Heron shook his head, still grinning as Orel followed him to the snack table, forming various plans on how he could get Larke’s attention.

  
  
  



	2. The Songbird's Woe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larke has a crush, and it is crushing.

It was the pain that surprised her.

It was close enough to daylight that chuchus shouldn’t be out; the sun was well above the horizon… yet this one was. Larke had been told to stay away from them since she was old enough to walk, and so far, she’d managed to heed this advice. Until now.

She hit the dirt harder than expected; the creature wrapping itself around her ankle and slithering up her shin, it’s slimy body instantly burning through her sock and into her flesh. Larke fought back the urge to scream, but the sound came anyway, breaking the early morning calm.

She kicked and flailed, trying desperately to rid herself of the monster, scraping legs against the dirt while it gnawed relentlessly on at her leg, engulfing her entire foot into its gelatinous body. Larke screamed again, grabbing a nearby stick to defend herself—

A flurry of movement, a rush of wind, then a Loftwing landed above her head, wings splayed and head bowed protectively over where she was prone on the ground. A rider leapt from their perch on its back, shining sword flashing in the rays of early morning sun when it was pulled from the scabbard. They poked the creature around her leg. It released Larke’s foot while she scampered backward, watching her savior in the red tunic give two quick slices to the monster, leading to its less than dramatic demise. She let out a sigh of relief, which instantly turned into a gasp of alarm upon seeing the face of her rescuer.

“Are you all right?” Sir Ugo said, turning around and kneeling in the dirt at her side. He looked quickly at her face, then at her ankle. “It really did a number on your leg.”

“I’m-I… I’ll be fine,” she managed, horrifically embarrassed. Of all the knights that could have come to her aid it had to be _him_ : Orel’s older brother.

“Are you sure? This could leave a scar if you don’t take care of it.”

“It’s all right, I- I can take care of it. I shouldn’t have screamed, it’s just a chuchu. I’m so sorry to have bothered you,” she mumbled, staring at the blood oozing from the wound left behind by the creature. She’d have to bandage it for sure, some sort of ointment if she had any, but she could take care of it.

Ugo tilted his head, a frown on his face. “At least let me walk you home. I’m sure it’s going to hurt to-”

“No, no, I’m fine, I swear,” Larke insisted, climbing to her feet and fighting hard not to wince when she put weight on her leg. “I’ve taken up too much of your time already.”

“I’m a knight, this is my job,” he chuckled.  

“I’ve just got to walk back to the Academy, it’s not-”

“That’s clear across the island. Let me-”

“N-No, thank you. I really will be fine, I’m so sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for… for dealing with that. It was stupid of me to get caught up with it. I should know to stay on the path.”

Ugo pressed his lips together and nodded. “I apologize, but I don’t know your name.”

Larke swallowed. “It’s, um… it’s Larke.”

“You must be in the year below my brother, then.”

“Yes,” she nodded, shifting to take the weight off her injured leg, fully aware she was as red as Ugo’s tunic. Larke’s stomach was in knots, so afraid this brave knight would return home and tell Orel, who Larke had been dreaming about for half a year, about this stupid girl he had to save from a chuchu.  

The Loftwing behind her gave her a curious sniff, then cooed as it walked closer to its partner.  Ugo frowned at her. “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you back? I’ve had a chuchu bite before and they’re nothing to scoff-”

“I-I’ll be fine. Thank you, again. I’m so sorry to have bothered you.”

The knight chuckled and shook his head. “No bother. Have a good rest of the day,” he said before climbing onto his bird. Larke waited until they had taken off, the dark blue Loftwing soaring into the eastern sky and the rising sun, before she began limping back to the Academy.

The stairs were the worst part, but she made it up them and to her room, kicking off her shoe to clutch her injured shin and ankle tightly. It still burned, and Larke knew she’d have to get up and deal with it eventually, but she was still reeling with embarrassment and couldn’t face it just yet.

Across the room, nestled in a lush violet blanket, Larke’s roommate Aya stirred, blinking sleep out of her eyes while pulling the covers tighter around her head. “You’re back early,” she mumbled sleepily.

Larke grimaced. “I had some trouble. I got attacked and-”

Aya was up in a flash, throwing covers aside and crossing the room in a single step to sit down beside Larke. “What happened? What attacked you?”

Larke groaned, burying her face in her pillow. “Goddess save me, Aya, it was a stupid chuchu.  A _chuchu_! I got attacked by a jelly blob!”

“How did you get it off?”

“I didn’t. A knight flew down and saved me. Poked it to get it off my ankle then took it out just like that,” Larke said, snapping her fingers. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Why?  That’s their job. They protect the island from monsters and-”

“It wasn’t just any knight,” Larke interrupted ominously, turning her head to look at Aya. “It was Sir Ugo. It was Orel’s _brother_.”

Aya blinked at her. “So?”

“So he’s going to tell Orel what an idiot I am!” Larke wailed. “Hylia curse it, I can barely speak around him and now his brother is going to tell him about this stupid girl he saved from a chuchu.”

She buried her face in her pillow, still holding her ankle with one hand. Larke heard Aya sigh heavily, then felt her weight leave the bed the sound of the door opening. She was back a few moments later, the sound of the shutting door announcing her return just before her weight returned to the bed. Larke winced as a wet cloth was applied to her shin.

“First off, chuchus are monsters. They may be lame looking, but they’re still monsters. They’ll suck the flesh right off your leg if they’re on their long enough. Why do you think you sew the knights those thick trousers?” Aya asked while gently cleaning the wound. “And secondly, I know you have never talked to Ugo, but he’s not like that. None of the knights gossip. Well, maybe Corvus because he can be an ass, but even he would have saved you. Ugo is not going to run and tell Orel how stupid you are because you aren’t stupid.”

“But what if he did? What would Orel think?”

“He’d probably think ‘ _yeah, she’d better watch out for those, they’re dangerous’_ then he’d ask to borrow your pencil because that’s all he did the last three weeks of the semester,” Aya replied. “He’s taking the Mythology class you’re in as well, so expect to be giving a lot of them out.”

“How do you know that?”  Larke asked, turning and taking the cloth from Aya to continue cleaning her leg. Aya smirked and tossed her messy blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Gaepora showed me the roster.  He’s nervous about teaching the same people he was students with. I told him not to be, he’s always been more of a teacher than a pupil, anyway.”

Larke nodded, gingerly patting her ankle while Aya got up to get some ointment they’d made from plants and some supplies Wren kept in her office. She slathered it on her leg, wondering how long she’d have to give up running. No more than a few days, surely, it was the only thing that made her feel sane at times.

“It’s always a bit of a thrill to get saved by a knight,” Aya giggled, drawing Larke out of her thoughts. “Efron saved me once when I slipped off the edge and I couldn’t stop blushing. I think I even said something stupid like ‘ _You’re my hero_.’”

Larke laughed. “I didn’t say anything like that. He offered to walk me home but… I didn’t want to bother him.”

“Larke, he’s a _knight_. He was probably worried about you and wanted to help. Ugo is cute, too. It wouldn’t have been that horrible to have him walk you home.”

“I would have just been stuttering the whole time, I could barely speak to him as it was. I don’t know if… I worry about if any of the knights know about what goes on at home. What would they think?”

Aya’s expression shifted. She slid her arm around Larke’s waist and gave her a consoling look. “If they did, they’d probably _do_ something. So would Kaebora or- “

“No one would believe me.”

“You’re not a liar, Larke, people would help you. My parents- “

“Do enough for me as is, I could never ask them to do more,” she said with a tone she hoped would end the conversation. “Could you hand me that bandage so I can wrap this?”

Aya signed, handing Larke the wrap to tie around her calf. “You should ask Orel to do it, show him how long your legs are.”

Larke blushed. “For all we know he prefers shoulders or somebody part of mine that isn’t nice.”

“All your body parts are nice. You should flaunt them a little; get his attention.”

“That would mean I’d have to talk to him.”

“What’s scarier:  Orel or the Chuchu? They’ll both try to make a snack out of you...”

“You are horrible,” Larke laughed, elbowing a giggling Aya while she finished the knot on the bandage. “Come on, let’s go get breakfast before the others are up so we can get the good stuff.”

Aya nodded, stretching lithely as she stood up, grabbing her toothbrush for after breakfast as they began another day.

This was Larke’s second year at the Academy, and her second summer in the dorms.  Summer classes were reserved for pages training for knighthood first and advanced students second as Headmaster Kaebora always prioritized the education of knights over civilians.  Both Larke and Aya were taking classes, Aya an ethics course and mathematics, which Larke was also taking alongside mythology in history. Her course load meant she could stay at the Academy dorms rather than return home, which not only helped her stay on top of her studies but it also kept her away from home, where things were always chaotic and tense.  

Porah, Peater, and Hawkin were all taking classes, but they didn’t stay in the dorms over the summer.  It was only Larke in her year, and Heron the year above her since he was catching up on a few classes he had to retake.  She didn’t see him much since she mostly stayed in her room, only in mythology which also had Gawain, who had graduated but needed to finish off his knight studies while still under apprenticeship, and now Orel, who was apparently taking it to get ahead on his studies.  With three students a year above her, one of whom Larke had been dreaming about from afar for several months, she rarely spoke during those lessons, despite instructor Gaepora’s attempts to get her to talk.

It was hard for her to speak up normally, quiet as she was, but having Orel in class, especially such a small, intimate one, made it so much worse.  She would stutter and trip over her words or worry so much about how she phrased things that her voice often came out as nothing more than a mumble. Sometimes Gaepora would call on her while she was busy staring at Orel’s back and imagining what his hair felt like, catching her completely off guard so she babbled uncontrollably in an attempt to look like she was paying attention.

And it had only gotten worse now that Orel had started to...notice her.

This should make her happy, since she had such a crush on him, but it only made her more nervous. He would smile at her and Heron would snicker, or he’d come in windswept with his hair a glorious mess and ask to borrow a pencil, grinning and saying _thank you_ as he took it from her shaking hands.  One day he caught her before class and caught her doodling her Loftwing and sat next to her asking if she ever drew anything else. Aya had snickered behind her because just the other night she’d been sketching Orel himself.

“You have got it _bad_ ,” Porah told Larke one afternoon after they’d all gotten out of mathematics. “Cregger told me you tripped in front of Orel while you were out- “

“How did he know about that?” Larke grasped. It had happened just the other morning when she’d run by the bridge. Orel had been sitting on it eating an apple when he called out to her and Larke was so startled she tripped over her own feet and fell flat on her face.

“Corvus told him, he was on morning patrols and saw the whole thing,” Porah said.  “Apparently Orel said you were hot?”

“Not… in that way,” Larke mumbled.

“What exactly did he say?” Aya asked. “Tell me verbatim. Don’t act like you don’t remember.”

“I said, ‘I get hot when I run’ and he said, ‘I’ll say,’” Larke repeated, watching Aya and Porah smirk at each other as they walked outside. “What?  He was talking about the weather.”

“I’m sure he was,” Porah scoffed, peering over the edge of the bridge at the noise coming from the sparring yard. The clang of metal crashing together, murmured instructions, grunts of effort and war cries. The three girls peered over the edge almost involuntarily as everyone often did when the knights were sparring outside.  

“Where’s Cregger?” Aya asked.

“His session is in the morning,” Porah said nonchalantly. “I told him getting on more of a schedule would be good, plus it keeps him from getting tangled up with Orel.”

“In fairness to Orel,” Larke said defensively, “he hasn’t gotten into a fight with Cregger since last Ribbon Day.  He’s walked away a few times when Cregger has tried to goad him after class.”

Porah frowned. “You saw him trying to pick a fight?”

“Yes, after Mythology last week. Cregger came by and was spouting some nonsense about Orel not being man enough to fight him again and Orel swore at him and walked off.”

“Ugh, and this is why he and I aren’t dating,” Porah groaned. “I told him months ago I didn’t care for his showing off, that I wasn’t going to stand for his bullying nonsense, that he was better than that, and if he wants to date me, he has to show me he can be a real man. He needs to be gentler and more thoughtful.”

Porah crossed her arms angrily, looking torn between irritation and immense disappointment.  Aya, however, scoffed. “Didn’t you complain about Orel being _too_ gentle?”

“He was timid,” Porah corrected. “I had made it clear that I wanted to be kissed, and he just didn’t pick up on the clues. Which, I should mention this Larke, you may want to get some practice in somehow so you can teach him how to kiss properly.”

Larke blushed, staring down at the yard where Orel was sparring with Heron. Aya said Orel had been getting personal training lessons from the Captain which must have been paying off.  He was remarkably talented, even Larke could see this though she knew little about sword play.

“He wouldn’t want to kiss me anyway,” Larke mumbled. “And if he did, I’d be so thrilled I wouldn’t care what he kissed like.”

Porah rolled her eyes at this while Aya snickered, eyes flicking from the men in the sparring yard up to where Larke was staring. “What was that, Larke?” She asked loudly. “You’d be thrilled to- “

“ _Shhhhh_! Will you _stop_?” Larke hissed, grabbing Aya by the arm to stop her from shouting.  Below them the men looked up, a few of them waving while Aya and Porah giggled and Larke stood horrified. She tried hard not to look at Orel, but it was almost impossible not to at this point. She watched him run his hands through his hair while walking across the yard to say something to Heron. Heron visibly rolled his eyes and muttered something back, but Orel seemed to ignore it as he resumed his sparring position and-

“I will say this, he does look good with his shirt off,” Porah mused when Orel removed his tunic and tossed it off to the side. Larke felt her face and neck go hot, the blush spreading all the way through her ears. All the sparring had paid off in physical ways also and as Orel swung his sword at Heron, the two of them clashing a little more aggressively this time, Larke could see muscles rippling along his arms, across his shoulders, and down his back right to where his trousers were sitting low on his hips.

“I think I need to go lie down for a while,” she murmured sheepishly, a heavy feeling settling into her stomach.  What she wouldn’t give just to touch him, or have him hold her…

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Aya laughed, shaking her head as Orel finished the match with a dramatic flourish that knocked Heron’s shield off his arm and sent him sprawling onto the ground. “Come on, let’s go to the Bazaar. My mom said Maggs got new yarn in and I want to get started on a blanket before fall comes.”

Larke nodded, allowing Aya to guide her away from the sparring yard and the beautiful site of Orel. As they stepped off the bridge she could hear laughing and swore she heard someone say, “Quit showing off, you asshole,” but she wondered if it was just the wind.  

* * *

 

Running was a respite, a break from the chaos of home and a way to keep herself centered.  She’d been doing it since she was around 12 or 13 after her parents had refused to let her take classes, saying she wasn’t smart enough to last in school because she’d struggled with reading as a child. Headmaster Kaebora had intervened in her behalf, along with Aya’s parents, showing her test scores and explaining it was a waste to let Larke’s intelligence go undeveloped.  Even after this, her parents had denied her, her mother claiming Larke was too weak and shy to be able to handle the pressure, and when Larke protested, her mother said she was only going to disappoint everyone and shouldn’t even try.

The running had initially been an attempt to get away from it all, but she’d reached the end of the island only to remember there was nowhere to run. Larke had got on her Loftwing then, letting the bird take her as far as she could before they had to turn around. They always had to turn around.  

After a few days of this, it became a routine, the trips off island replaced at first by her bird nestling her on the Goddess statue, then eventually just checking in after Larke had finished three laps.  The running seemed to exorcise the anxiety and constant stress she was under at home and visiting with her Loftwing to helped her remember there were people in the sky who cared about her, that wanted her to keep trying, to keep living.

 _My Loftwing. Aya. Pehny and Falco. Talon and Starling. Little Eagus_. She listed each person every day she ran, thinking about names she could add to it. Perhaps her own someday. Or someone else’s.

Larke had just gotten back to her room after her run that morning, a little curious as to where Aya had gone so early, when there was a knock on her door. She expected to find Pollus or Kaebora on the other side with a question about an assignment or a sewing order but instead she found Orel, grimacing, the green shirt he was wearing torn from his neck halfway down his shoulder.

“Hey Larke,” he said in a friendly voice. “I missed you passing the bridge this morning.”

“Oh,” Larke breathed, hyper aware that she was sweaty and still wearing her tattered exercise clothes, her hair in a loose plait on top of her head. She looked a mess while he looked gorgeous, even in a ripped shirt and loose trousers. Orel stared at her, a little smile coming across his face that made her weak in the knees. _Say something, you idiot!_ She shouted internally.

“I’m sorry,” she managed, her voice breathless when it came out.

Orel tilted his head.  “Don’t be. I actually tried to go running, and I probably missed you,” he said, ruffling his hair. “It’s… running is exhausting.”

“You… you build up endurance. It takes a while though. Make sure to drink plenty of water today,” she replied nervously, thinking it was silly to give a boy training to be a knight advice on how to take care of himself.

“Oh I will, but I wanted to catch you and… well…”

Orel hesitated, looking, for the first time she’d ever seen, rather nervous. Larke swallowed and gestured to his shirt. “Your shirt?”

“What?  Oh yeah, yeah… that’s it,” he mumbled, frowning a little. “Are you busy? I got into a bit of a tussle with a… Keese… and you did such a good job last time, I was wondering if you’d help me out.”

Larke nodded. “Sure, um… of course.  Anytime you need anything just… you can leave it here or bring it back-”

“Can you fix it now?”

“I can,” Larke said, then felt her knees almost give out as Orel pulled his shirt over his head.  She felt split in half, part of her desperate to stare at him - the lines of sinewy muscle on his chest and stomach, his strong arms, and the way his trousers sat on his hips — but another part of her so embarrassed he might catch her that she turned her eyes immediately to the floor while taking his shirt to her small sewing station.

Orel lingered in her room, shirtless and beautiful, looking casually over her belongings as he waited.  “So, you’re really okay after you tripped while running the other day?”

 _Goddess he remembers that_ , she groaned internally, feeling sick to her stomach. It had been over a week ago, she was sure he would have forgotten. Larke began stitching faster while Orel turned his gaze to her, waiting for a response.

“Oh, yeah,” she laughed awkwardly. “I’m so clumsy. But I’m… I was fine.”

“You scraped up your knee,” Orel noted, gesturing towards her. Larke looked down at the scratch on her knee, adjusting her leggings lower to try to hide it.

“It’s just a scratch, I’m fine.”

Orel pursed his lips, but he nodded and continued to peruse her room. Larke looked at the shirt and her line of stitches, thinking perhaps she should double them since he was so prone to getting his shirts torn.  It would also give her more time to look at him. Or… talk to him. She should talk to him. _Open your mouth, you stupid girl.  Talk!_

“So um… h-how are you liking class?” she asked, trying for something casual.  

“Hmm?” Orel said, tilting his head as he looked at her.

“The mythology class, the one we’ve been taking all summer?”

“Oh, that,” Orel said with a small laugh. “I suppose it’s all right, it’ll put me ahead of the others.  I’ve got to learn that plus ancient text mythos next year; it’s compulsory for knights.”

“It is?” Larke asked, finishing up the final knot in her stitching and examining Orel’s shirt.  “Then... why are you taking it now?”

Orel shrugged, smiling when she stood and handed him the piece of clothing.  “There are things in class I’m interested in,” he said, giving her a strange smirk. “I thought it prudent I learn more about them.”

Larke nodded, watching him examine the shirt closely. “Is it all right? I can-”

“No, it’s perfect. You’re… wow, that was fast. I thought it would take longer,” he said, sounding a little disappointed.  “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing don’t… don’t worry about it. It’s just a neckline it’s easy-”

“Larke, let me pay you something or… do something for you.”

 _You could kiss me_ , she thought. _Or hug me. Or hold my hand. Just touch me, please_ …

“You could… um… I’m running out of pencils,” she said awkwardly, part of her brain screaming for her to suggest he take her out. She couldn’t dare do that, it was too forward.

He laughed, the sound making her heart, which had managed to slow for a few minutes, beat faster once again. “Okay, I’ll be sure to bring them some of them back, and bring some for myself,” he said, leaning closer to her for a moment. “Thank you for fixing my shirt.”

“No problem, any… anything you need.”

Orel smiled, still staring at her, long enough that she began to twist her fingers together and wonder why he was staring. He looked torn, conflicted about something, but the door opened behind him and Aya came wandering in.

“Oh… am I interrupting-”

“No, not at… not at all,” Orel said, frowning for a second before turning to Aya. “I was just going. Thank you again, Larke.”

“You’re welcome,” she said quietly, watching him pass by Aya and walk out the door. Aya waited for a moment, then shut the door and locked it before crossing the room to stand in front of Larke.

“What was that about? What did he want?”

“He… he ripped his shirt again and just wanted me to fix it,” Larke said, sinking onto her bed, her heart still pounding in her chest.

“Did he take it off again while you stitched it?” Aya asked, watching Larke nod. “Has he no shame?”

“It’s not like I minded…”

“Of course not. Hell, I don’t mind it… but still. That’s… bold,” Aya said thoughtfully, sitting on her bed across from Larke. “Strangely bold. Like he’s doing it to get your attention. He was definitely trying to get your attention in the sparring yard the other day… and he basically demands your attention in class by always asking for pencils.”

“I’m sure he just… doesn’t think about it. He just wants his shirt fixed, or something to write with.”

“Maybe,” Aya said, drumming her fingers thoughtfully on the mattress. “Or maybe, just _maybe,_ he thinks you’re hot, and he wants to put his tongue in your mouth among other- “

Larke gasped, tossing a pillow at a laughing Aya before pressing her hands over her face to hide not only her blush, but the wild smile that spread across her face at the thought of kissing Orel.

* * *

 

“How many times has he had you fix one of his shirts now?” Aya asked, smirking at Larke while her eyes flicked to where Orel was laughing across the classroom.

Larke thought back, remembering colors, the length of the sleeves, and the way his Orel’s clothes always smelled. Bird feathers and warmth; the scent of apples or something sweet. She’d mended at least fifteen of them possibly, but she’d stopped keeping an official count, too thrilled to do math each time he stopped by her door.

“I stopped counting,” she replied sheepishly.

Aya hummed, narrowing her eyes at Orel.  “He keeps looking over here. He’s staring.”

“No, he’s not,” Larke said, straightening her shoulders out.

“You _just_ sat up more, you know he’s—”

“I sat up more because I’m comfortable like this. It’s better to have good posture than to… slump over.”

Aya smirked. “That, and it highlights how endowed you are.”

“Hylia knows that’s the _last_ thing I need.”

“We’ve all caught up with you now,” Aya said before frowning. “Well, most of us have. I haven’t. I never will probably.”

“You’re fine, stop it. Corvus never seemed to mind.”

“Corvus was desperate and would have made out with a Loftwing had it paid him enough attention.”

“How did you guys… kiss each other?” Larke asked quietly, thinking about how tall Orel was.  “He was so much taller—”

“Larke, _everyone_ is taller than me,” Aya sighed. “Violet even makes fun of me for it. She sits her beak on my head sometimes like ‘look how cute and small you are.’”

“You are cute, but not because you’re small,” Larke pointed out, returning to her sketching as they waited for class to begin. Aya watched her, a small little smile on her face.

“Orel thinks you’re cute.”

Larke blushed, but kept her eyes fixed on the paper.  “For all we know, he’s staring at you.”

“Oh, please,” Aya scoffed. “I’m not his type.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know. And he’s not my type.”

“How is he not your type?” Larke asked, sounding almost offended. “Look at him. He’s gorgeous. His hair and the way he smiles, and he’s so friendly and talkative and-”

“He’s too skinny.”

“He’s not skinny! He’s slender, yes, but you’ve seen how muscular he is,” she said, her face horribly hot now as she flashed back to the other day when Orel had come into her room, again, to have his shirt mended, again, and just taken it off and walked around half naked.  Again.

“You should see how red you are right now,” Aya laughed. “Can I ask you something?”

“If I’ve thought about him without his shirt off? Yes, I have, now shut up.”

“No, that’s not what I was going to ask. I see the look you have on your face after he leaves, I know you’re thinking about it,” Aya teased, ignoring Larke when she began to scribble furiously on her paper. “What I wanted to ask is, why don’t you ask him out?”

“I can’t do that!”

“I’m serious. Why can’t you?” Aya asked.  “You tell me he’s practically waiting on the bridge when you run by every morning, even in the frigid weather we’re having now. He’s constantly hanging around Jay and Heron’s room and whenever we have tea he _magically_ appears to-”

“He likes tea. He never gets it at home, he told me.”

“He likes _you_ ,” Aya said. “No seventeen-year-old boy likes tea that much.”

“If he likes me, why hasn’t he asked me out?” Larke challenged. “Everyone on this island talks about how impulsive Orel is, they all criticize him for it, saying he never thinks before he acts and all that.  If that’s the case, why hasn’t he bluntly asked me out without thinking it through?”

Aya pressed her lips together, considering this for a long while as Larke began to draw again.  She’d just about gotten her sketch of the statue done when Aya cleared her throat.

“Because he _really_ likes you and maybe he’s nervous. He’s never had a girlfriend before.”

“That’s not true. Porah-”

“He and Porah made out for like three days then she decided he was too gentle with her and broke it off. I honestly think she just wanted to know what it was like to kiss someone else before she moved onto Cregger permanently,” Aya said. “Orel has never had a girlfriend, maybe he’s scared of messing up.”

Larke shook her head. “He couldn’t mess up, not with me anyway.”

“All the more reason you should ask him out!” Aya said encouragingly. “You’ve had a crush on him for how long? And he’s paying you all this attention. What’s the risk? He says no— only if he’s the biggest idiot on the island— and you go back to staring at him from afar until some other boy who’s worthy of your attention comes along. It would be no different from how it is now.”

“What if he laughed at me and told everyone how silly, stupid Larke—”

“Stop that,” Aya scolded. “Do you think so little of him that you’d believe he’d do that?”

Larke sighed. “No, I… I know he wouldn’t do that. I’m just so scared. I’ll stutter and stammer and look like a complete moron while I’m trying to get it out.”

“Or you’ll stutter a bit and he’ll think it’s adorable and kiss you until you can’t see straight,” Aya said, offering a much more pleasant scenario than the ones running through Larke’s head. It was a risk, but Aya was partially right. If Larke was rejected, nothing would change. Orel might not come to see her as much, but that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.  It might help her get over him faster instead of longing for him more.

Class passed in a flurry, as did the rest of the day, and the next day, and the day after that. All the while Larke considering what Aya had said, trying to build up her courage, trying to overcome all the self-doubt and fear rolling around in her head. The thought of a boyfriend scared her a bit because, eventually, she’d have to introduce him to her parents. That opened the port for all sorts of problems, not only her drawing their ire but the person she was dating discovering the truth of things.  Perhaps it would be better to wait until she was out of her parents’ house and on her own to date anyone.

But on the other hand, she’d miss out on all that time. What if he did say yes and she could be with him now?  Be in his arms and snuggled against his chest? What if all the fears she had of him rejecting her or finding her home life disgusting were put to rest and instead he wanted to help her, or he loved her regardless?

She’d never find out the answer unless she asked.

* * *

 

“What did you put in this one?” Aya asked, sipping the tea Larke had poured into her cup.

“Apples and ginger,” Larke said. “Fal had some that grew late in the season so I bought them and baked them up for snacks and to put in tea.”

“It’s really good,” Aya said, taking another sip, then rolling her eyes dramatically as she stared past Larke’s shoulder into the hall.  “Well, look who’s _magically_ appearing now that we’ve made tea again?”

Larke tensed and turned over her shoulder to see Orel, Heron, and Jay standing in the hallway, Orel looking a little downcast for some reason. “I thought I heard you say something about making pancakes,” Heron said, grinning at Larke.

“I hadn’t said anything, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t- “

“No. Go away,” Aya said, narrowing her eyes in mock anger. “This is our time and you can’t just come barging in and - “

“I’ll do your housekeeping chores for the week,” Heron offered. “Both of you.”

“Deal,” Larke and Aya said in unison, with Aya asking, “why are you so in the mood for pancakes?”

Larke watched Jay sling his arm around Orel’s shoulders. “My friend here isn’t feeling the best, I think pancakes would cheer him up.”

Orel grimaced, staring vaguely at the table where Larke and Aya were sitting. Larke wanted to jump up and hug him, run her fingers through his hair and hold him close until whatever was bothering him went away…

Instead, she settled for gathering ingredients from Henya’s cupboard and a few she had in her room and mixing them into a batter. Aya and Heron lingered in the kitchen teasing each other while Jay and Orel sat at in the dining area, the latter looking despondent with his arms folded against the table and his head bowed slightly. Larke could see Jay was trying to cheer him up, but for whatever reason it didn’t seem to be working.  

Larke finished mixing the batter then passed the bowl to Aya, who gave her a curious look.  “You can handle this, right? It’s just the cooking.”

“Yeah, I can handle it,” she replied, walking to the pan but keeping her eyes partially on Larke as she poured another cup of tea, mixed a large dollop of honey into it, then walked into the dining area.  

“Hey, um… if you’re not feeling well this… um… this might help,” Larke said, setting down the tea cup in front of Orel. He stared at it for a moment, then looked up at her with an expression that made her throat and chest go tight.  Like he’d never seen anything like her before, which was bizarre because she was nothing special to look at.

“It’s apple.  And ginger. And I… I put honey in it if your throat is sore,” she said, trying to fill the silence. “Or… if you don’t like that I have lavender or-”

“No, no… this… thank you,” Orel said, unfolding his arms to wrap his hands around the cup.  “This smells good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Larke said quietly, making to move back into the kitchen but Jay caught her eyes. He nodded towards the seat across from Orel, a small smile on his face. Larke took a hesitant seat, tucking her hair behind her ears as she did. She expected Jay to say something but, to her simultaneous horror and delight, he got up and went into the kitchen area, leaving her alone with Orel, who was now cautiously sipping his tea.

“This is good,” he murmured. “It’s warm.  And it’s really good.”

“Yeah… um… I just made it a minute ago, the water was still boiling,” she mumbled, gesturing to the kitchen. She tried to sit up taller, a vain attempt to make herself look attractive, but the way Orel was staring at the teacup now was very distracting.  He looked almost like he was trying to hold back tears.

“Are you all right?” she asked quietly, leaning forward and tilting her head to catch his eyes.  Orel looked up, a little pale as he grimaced and squeezed the teacup tighter.

“It’s just the weather. It’s cold, and my skin gets dry and cracks,” he said, showing her the backs of his hands.  “Ugo and I are trying to make sweaters and scarves and it’s not going well. It’s just the season, and… everything.”  Orel grimaced again, looking at her quickly then turning back to his tea.

Larke exhaled slowly, guilt settling into her stomach. She’d forgotten almost, though she was sure Orel hadn’t. It had happened at the end of fall, just before the first big snowstorm. That was one of the reasons the fire had spread so quickly. Dry leaves and grass everywhere; perfect kindling for a catastrophe.

“I don’t really like to talk about it,” Orel said when Larke had no response.  She folded her hands together and nodded, trying to think of something she could say to fill the space.

“I-I’m sure it’s… I know what that’s like. To not want to talk about things.”

Orel nodded, squeezing his teacup tighter before he looked up at her, head tilted curiously.  “Except... sometimes I _do_  want to talk about it. Some days it’s all I want to talk about because it’s all I can think about,” he said, almost as though he couldn’t hold it back. “Al listens but… he acts too much like a dad to really… get how I’m feeling. And Ugo can’t talk about it.  He just gets tense and runs off. Sometimes I just want someone to listen.”

Larke took a slow breath, watching Orel take another sip of her tea, licking his lips afterward.  He ruffled his hair and gave her a little smile, slightly pink in the cheeks. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be laying this all on you,” he chuckled. “You were nice enough to make me tea and here I am just… babbling on about-”

“I don’t mind,” Larke interjected. “I don’t.  I’ll… If you want someone to talk to… you know… I can… I’m a good-”

“ _Larke_?” Aya’s voice called from the kitchen, sounding panicked. “I’m sorry… I can’t handle this. I’ve burnt three of them.”

Heron and Jay were both laughing, Aya muttering angrily at them under her breath. Across from her Orel wrinkled his nose, looking from Larke back to the tea cup, his hands curling tighter around it.  Larke hesitated, wanting desperately to finish her sentence, to tell him she would be glad to listen to _anything_ he had to say _anytime_ he wanted-

“Larke?” Aya said again. “I’m really sorry, I just can’t-”

“I’m coming, I’m…” she sighed, giving Orel a sympathetic glance. “I’ve got to go help.”

He smiled gently at her, then nodded. “Thank you for the tea again.”

“You’re welcome,” Larke said, unwillingly getting up from the table to head into the kitchen and see what kind of damage Aya and the others had managed to do to her pancakes.

* * *

 

Winter arrived in force, with cold air and large snowflakes frequent visitors to Skyloft. The solstice was approaching along with the Feast of Hylia celebration, which marked the beginning of a new calendar year and hope for good things to come. Larke in particular was hoping for good things to come from the project she’d been working on the last few weeks in her spare time: a pair of mittens and a thick blue scarf, both lined with a soft material on the inside that she knew was good for delicate skin.

“You made those for him, didn’t you?” Aya said, casually brushing her hair in front of her mirror.  

“I did,” Larke said, folding the scarf neatly on her bed, the mittens nestled on top of it. “He likes blue, he said that once, and he’s got a lot of blue tunics”

“It’s appropriate then that that’ll be his color,” Aya said. “Isn’t that what Kaebora told you when he was talking about the uniforms?”

Larke nodded.  “He gave me fabric today to get started on the tunics and told me to make three for certain. I suspect Jay is the one not moving up, which I feel badly about.”

“He’s not suited for knighthood. He’s too wild and his head is always off in the clouds,” Aya said matter-of-factly. “He’s the one who always goads Orel into drinking or getting in trouble, you know.”

“He hasn’t gotten trouble for ages, so the goading must not be working,” Larke said fairly, and it was true. It had been ages since Orel had gotten into a fight, or even gotten mouthy in class. She didn’t know about the drinking, but she couldn’t fault him. He wasn’t the only one doing it. Porah, Eve and Aya had gotten a hold of a few bottles of wine during the harvest festival and had a few more to celebrate Yule with tonight.

“I think his crush on you has straightened him out,” Aya said thoughtfully. “I mean that. You two will be good together.”

“Aya, you don’t even know if he’s going to say yes,” Larke sighed as they crossed the bridge towards the Bazaar, walking around the path towards the front where the restaurant was. “He could laugh in my face for all we- “

“You made him mittens nicer than you make yourself. You are quite possibly the _sweetest_ person on the island. If he turns you down after that, he’ll claim the title of the stupidest boy in the sky,” Aya muttered, turning around when she saw Larke shake her head in the mirror.  “I mean that. You are smart, and gentle, and funny, and so kind, _and_ you are gorgeous to boot. They should all be groveling at your feet for a chance— “

“Stop that,” Larke laughed. “I’m not… I mean I’m nice but—”

“Don’t sell yourself short.  You’re a catch, he should be so lucky to have any girl let alone have _you_ like him.”

Larke smiled at her, hot through her cheeks at the thought of Orel saying yes, holding her hand, or maybe even kissing her. She’d never been kissed, save for a quick peck on the lips from Jay when they were 12 or 13. That had been forced, almost a dare, it would be different to be kissed by someone who wanted her.  

She and Aya left moments later, walking across the bridge and down to the Bazaar where they would be setting up for the festival tonight. It was common for people to lurk around there, and Larke hoped she might catch Orel to ask if he’d be out later. Her plan was to find him after the main prayer but before the dinner, give him the scarf and mittens, then ask if he’d like to take a walk or get cocoa with her at the booth Lin always set up. It was simple, but hopefully it would give them some time to talk and she could work up the courage to ask him out.

“Will you name your first child after me?” Aya asked as they walked into the north side of the Bazaar, the room filled with people bustling about and a few of the local performers singing prayer songs in a corner.

“Hylia, help me, _stop_ that,” Larke laughed. “You’re going to make me start blushing before I even have a chance to talk to him.”

“Then your face will have that wind-kissed chapped look and you can say, ‘ _oh, Orel, my cheeks and lips are ever so cold. Can you please warm them up?_ “

Larke felt her face grow horribly hot and turned to swat Aya on the shoulder, only to notice that her friend had stopped up short and was staring, bewildered, at a corner behind the storage booth. Larke followed her gaze, her stomach giving a sickening lurch with what she saw.

Orel stood in the alcove, smiling gently and a little flushed in the cheeks, which would have been welcome save for his arms were around a girl with long, wavy, acorn-colored hair. She had her hands pressed against his chest, a playful smirk on her face as she leaned up and whispered something against his jaw. To Larke’s horror, Orel smiled wider and turned, pressing his mouth against the girl’s and closing his eyes in a way that made Larke feel physically ill.

“What the… is that Mallara?” Aya asked.

“Who?”

“That’s Mallara. She never went to the Academy, she lives on the north end of the village. How in the _hell_ \- I didn’t realize they knew each other at- “?

“Clearly, they know each other quite well,” Larke muttered, her voice starting to shake. Aya turned to look at her, concern writ into her pretty features.

“Maybe it’s…I don’t… Larke, are you all- “

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, questioning how she could have misread every interaction she’d had with Orel since the summer. All the mended shirts, the quick morning conversations when he’d stop her while she was running, the loaned pencils…A few weeks ago when she’d made him tea, he’d looked at her and started talking before they were interrupted, and when she’d finished the pancakes he’d commented on how good they were and how nice it was of her to do that.  How could she have misread all those signs?

It had to be because she was stupid, and too eager to hope he’d seen something in her when, really, she has nothing to offer him.  Nothing at all.

“This was a mistake,” Larke mumbled, trying to fight the overwhelming urge to cry.  She shouldn’t cry over losing someone she never had. “It was all just a stupid, _stupid_ mistake.  I was foolish to think- “

“No, you’re not foolish, Larke, no,” Aya soothed, turning to her and putting an arm around her waist. “It’s… He’s… Clearly he’s an idiot who has no idea what signals he’s been- “

“He hasn’t sent any signals that — I over exaggerated things. There’s no way he could ever like someone like me. I’m… I’m younger and too shy and foolish and—”

“Oh, _Larke_ ,” Aya murmured. “This… no, he’s just a stupid boy.  Don’t… don’t let this… what it in the hell is going _on_ here?  How is he—”

“I have to go. I have… I just need to go,” Larke said, turning over her shoulder and walking quickly out of the Bazaar, then running back to her dorm. She didn’t want anyone to see her, anyone to notice how upset she was over something so trivial. She raced inside the room, shutting the door behind her and taking a long breath before walking to her bed. The scarf and mittens were sitting there, folded nicely just waiting to be used.

Larke pushed them onto the floor and laid down on her bed, kicking her sheets and weathered blanket loose so she could pull them over shoulders and head. She turned her face into her pillow, unable to stop the tears that began leaking hot onto her cheeks, staining her pillow and reminding her just of how alone she was in the sky.

* * *

 

 “Hey there, Larke.”

Larke had been staring at her paper, focusing so hard on her doodling she’d almost forgotten she was in the classroom instead of her dorm.  But the sound of her name, and the voice saying it, shook her back to life.

“Oh, uh… Hi, Peater,” she said quietly, curious as to why he’d sat down next to her, or why he was talking to her to begin with.  

“You seem awful focused for this just being a civics class,” he noted casually.  

“I’m not really.  I… I’m just doodling.”

“I see that,” Peater said, peering over her wrist at the paper which Larke covered hastily with her hand. He smiled gently at her and tossed his long hair.  “So, a bunch of us are going down to the Bazaar after class: Hawkin, Porah, Eve, Aya, and me.”

“Aya didn’t… mention it.”

“We only just decided a bit ago, in the hall.  You want to come?”

“Um… sure, I guess, if everyone else is going.”

“We are, but _I_ wanted to be the one to ask ya along,” he murmured, flashing her a winning smile that made her feel warm in the cheeks.

“Yeah, er… I’ll go.  I guess I’ll just meet you all in the hall?”

“Yup, that’s the place,” he said, still grinning as others began to filter into the classroom and remove scarves and mittens from their persons. Mid-winter was still cold, though this year seemed decidedly colder than others. That could have just been Larke’s perception however, having spent the last fortnight plus in a state of mourning.

She was glad she only had one class with Orel, as looking at him was much more painful now that he had a girlfriend. She assumed he would move on with things, and focus on her, but to her dismay he’d continued to ask her for pencils and to mend his shirts every now and again, so she saw him more often than she chose, really. Inside the Academy at least.  Aya had told her all about seeing him around the island with Mallara, so Larke had been staying inside as of late. Besides, it was cold. No sense in going out in it unnecessarily.

Larke returned to her doodling, eager for class to start, while Peater stayed seated next to her, smiling casually and tossing his chin length blonde hair.  It was a bit confusing, really. He usually sat right up front, wanting to make sure he was seen and able to answer as many questions as possible. Peater was very much a darling of Headmaster Kaebora’s, applauded for his social nature and budding skills that would aid him in knighthood. It annoyed Aya that he was so favored, not to mention that Peater took each and every compliment he received to heart and had little humility to contrast it.  Aya had taken to calling him _Mr. Skyloft_ disdainfully, then to her chagrin the nickname took off and now everyone called him that, which only seemed to swell Peater’s slightly inflated ego even more.

“Peater, you’re in my spot,” Aya grumbled when she came in a moment later, staring at him before taking a reluctant seat in the row behind Larke.

“I’m sorry,” he grinned, eyeing her over his shoulder. “You didn’t have a name on it.”

“Yeah, but I _always_ sit there. That’s my spot, just like Larke always sits there.”

“I thought she usually sat in the back?” Another voice said, and Larke felt her stomach clench up. _Don’t look at him, don’t look at him, don’t look_ , she told herself, but she couldn’t avoid turning when he said her name a second later.

“You always sit in back in math and geography, Larke,” Orel said, a half-smile on his handsome face.  He looked different today, his hair was messy again after being combed nearly for weeks. She preferred it this way if she was honest.  Not that it mattered what she thought.

“I… it’s easier for me to see if I sit towards the back in Pollus’ class,” she offered lamely. “He draws maps, and it’s just… easier to see.”

Orel tilted his head, but seemed to accept this excuse, drumming his fingers on the table between them. “You don’t… happen to have an extra pencil, do you?”

“What happened to the one you had yesterday?” Aya snapped, glaring at Orel with a look that made him shift over in his seat.

“I… broke it.”

“How did you break it?”

“I stepped on it when I was getting ready this-”

“So you’re telling me that you and your brother, who is a knight, only have one pencil in your entire household and you just  _happened_ to-”

“Aya, it’s fine,” Larke said, knowing Aya was only being so rude because she was still angry at Orel. She didn’t have a reason to be; it wasn’t as though he was beholden to Larke or even had a clue Larke had a crush on him. That was her fault. She should have told him sooner or said… anything. She’d let her fear of rejection hold her back and missed her chance, but that wasn’t Orel’s fault.

“Here,” Larke murmured, handing a sheepish Orel the writing utensil. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you,” he replied, taking the pencil and rolling it over in his fingers. Beside her Peater was smiling, watching her closely.  Larke shifted and tried to hide the growing blush on her cheeks.

“You sure are sweet,” Peater said. “Wish I forgot my pencil for class and could borrow one from you.”

“Yes, because Larke just keeps a plethora of pencils in her bag to give out to everyone,” Aya said defensively. Larke turned over her shoulder to give her a scolding look, but Aya was completely unabashed.  She shrugged and continued to side-eye Orel all through class, still glaring when Kaebora dismissed them.

“What was that all about?” Larke asked as she gathered her things and followed Aya out into the hall.  

“First Peater steals my spot — he _knows_  that’s my spot — and then Orel just… assuming you can give him a pencil even after—”

“Aya, he didn’t do anything wrong,” Larke said fairly. “He kissed a girl.  There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Aya huffed. “Yeah, well, he sent you all those mixed signals for a while and… I’m just angry. I hate seeing you sad, you don’t deserve it.”

“I’m not sad, Aya. I just… it was too far-fetched, anyway. He’s straightened himself out a bit now and you know he’s going to wing the Wing Ceremony this summer. I’m… I’m just a silly girl who can sew. I can’t be the girlfriend of a knight.”

“Stop that.”

“I mean it. Look at me. I sit in the back of class doodling, I can barely speak to people I don’t know well.”

“You did fine with Peater just now.”

“Well, that’s Peater. Everyone knows Peater. He’s Mr. _Skyloft_.”

Aya rolled her eyes. “That was meant to be an insult. If anything he’s a master of making himself into more than he is.”

“That’s rude.  He’s nice. Something is really bothering you today,” Larke frowned, putting her arms around Aya’s shoulders. “What’s going on?”

Aya signed, returning the hug by laying her head on Larke’s shoulder.  “I feel very defensive of you, it’s nothing new. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your apology,” Larke laughed. “Perhaps Peater or Orel, but I don’t-”

“I heard my name,” Orel said, walking close to where they were standing with his hands in his pockets. “I… uh… I wanted to give you your pencil back, Larke.”

“Oh, thank you,” Larke said, unraveling her arms from around Aya’s shoulders. “You could have kept it, I don’t mind.”

“S’all right,” Orel said, fussing with the back of his hair, his face a little pink. “I um… I wanted to ask, I’ve got a tear in my shirt here,” he said, gesturing to the hem of his tunic and a small rip along the seam. “I’m bird crap at stitching…”

“Can’t you get your _girlfriend_ to do it?” Aya asked, wincing when Larke elbowed her.

Orel blinked, almost as if the idea of this confused him. He looked from Larke to Aya, then closed his eyes, running his hand through his hair as though he’d just had the realization that he had a girlfriend he could ask.  

“Well, I… I don’t… I’m pretty sure she’s worse than I am at sewing,” he mumbled. “Anyway, I was wondering-”

“She’s busy, we’re all going someplace,” Aya said, glowering as she tightened her arm around Larke’s waist.  Orel winced, looking to Larke for confirmation.

“I am… I mean, we’re all supposed to meet up and go to the Bazaar for soup, so… but I can fix it really quick, it’s a small tear,” she sighed, acquiescing.  She couldn’t say no to him, not when he was asking for something so small. “Aya, can you tell the others I’ll meet you there?”

Aya sighed, a small smile on her face as she nodded, throwing one more minor glare in Orel’s direction before walking down the hall to where Eve and Porah were waiting with Hawkin. Larke gestured to her dorm room, trembling a little as Orel followed her in.

“What did I do to piss Aya off?”

 _Pretend to have a crush on me so I’d mend your shirts,_ Larke thought, though she didn’t really mean that. Orel was just friendly and perhaps… a little oblivious to the effect he had on people. Particularly her.

“She’s just… rather protective of me sometimes,” Larke explained as she gathered her thread and a needle. She turned around and approached him, tensing when Orel reached down to lift the hem of his shirt.

“You don’t… have to do that,” She said, her voice trembling despite her attempts to keep it steady.  She couldn’t take it, the sight of him shirtless and gorgeous in her room again. It was nothing but a reminder of what she couldn’t have. “I just… I can mend it without you taking it off.”

“Oh,” Orel said, lowering his arms.  “Okay. Don’t poke me.”

Larke breathed a laugh as she sat down on her bed, turning Orel so she could see the tear along his seam. “I won’t poke you, I promise.”

Orel nodded, holding the shirt out away from his body closer to her. He watched her work, his gaze making her feel warm all over. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile since… It’s been a long time.”

Larke pressed her lips together as she stitched, wondering why Orel was keeping track of how often she smiled. “I, um… haven’t had a lot of reasons to smile lately.”

Orel didn’t respond to this, though Larke felt him tense as she worked. She finished the stitching a minute later, tying the final knot quickly before looking up to see Orel staring at her with a pained expression on his face.  

“I didn’t stick you.”

“No, that’s not… no,” he said. “I’m sorry you… haven’t had a lot of reasons to smile.”

Larke shrugged, warm along the back of her neck and through her ears. _Don’t be sweet to me, not now. It just makes it worse._  

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, his expression so sincere it was hard for Larke to keep breathing, let alone think of a reply. _Yes, I do. I want you so badly and here you are… but you’re kissing that other girl..._

“It’s… I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” she stammered, keeping her internal monologue to herself.  “But I should get going, everyone is waiting on me.”

“Yeah, yeah...I… it’s… don’t want to keep people waiting. It’s…”

“Rude?”

“Rude, yeah,” Orel said, grimacing as he looked at her. “What do I owe you for-”

“Orel, it took five minutes, don’t worry about it,” Larke said, offering what she hoped was a comforting smile. “I’ll um… I’ll see you in class.”

“Yeah, see you in class,” he said, slowly walking out of her room when she gestured. She offered him another smile, tucking her hair behind her ear as she walked out of the Academy and towards the Bazaar.

A conversation was already in full swing when she arrived, Aya and Porah talking animatedly with the others chipping in every so often over them. Larke sat down in an empty chair between Aya and Peater, surprised when the latter passed her a cup of tea.

“I ordered for you. I know you like tea,” he said, giving her another dazzling smile.  

“Oh, um… thanks,” she said, smiling back while trying to catch up on the conversation. It appeared Aya was scolding Porah, who was more stubborn than anyone Larke knew and apparently not thrilled with whatever Aya was lecturing her on.

“All I’m saying is I think you’ve strung him on long enough,” Aya explained, holding up her hands in a placating manor. “And perhaps if you were to distract him, he wouldn’t pick on people so much.”

“I want him to stop that on his own,” Porah said defensively. “Not because I’m bribing him with kisses or whatever, because he knows it’s _wrong_.”

“Cregger is always going to antagonize people,” Aya said. “He antagonizes you sometimes.”

“He teases me,” Porah replied defensively.

“There’s little difference if you think about it.”

“This is ridiculous. He’s had a crush on me for ages, it’s not going to change any—”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Larke said quietly, a wry laugh in her voice. The entire table fell silent then, with Porah tipping her head curiously at Larke while Aya gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Explain,” Porah practically demanded, folding her arms over her chest and leaning on the table. “I want to know how much experience you have in these things, Larke.”

Larke swallowed, her ears and cheeks already hot with everyone looking at her. She shrugged, grimacing as she tried to think of how to phrase it.  “I don’t have any experience, only… only I know that sometimes — perhaps — if you wait too long to tell someone how you feel, they’ll get bored and find someone else. Or, they’ll never know you liked them in the first place and find someone else and it’ll be moot. So maybe it’s better to just… tell someone how you feel than wait for them to be perfect before doing so.”

Larke curled her hands around her tea mug, staring at the steaming liquid instead of at the eyes watching her. She could feel a few people shift positions, Aya scooting closer to lean against her shoulder while Porah uncrossed her arms slightly, one of her fingers tapping out a random pattern on the table.

“Well put,” Porah acquiesced. “But Cregger _knows_ I like him, so—”

“So you’re just stringing him along because of a flaw you know he has?” Larke asked. “If that never changes about him, if he’s always a bit of a blow hard—”

“ _Hey_!”

“She’s not wrong,” Hawkin said fairly, smirking when Porah was forced to nod.  

“Regardless, if you can’t accept that no matter how he shapes up— and I agree with Aya, I think if you started dating him, he’d be a little less bullying— there will always be a part of him that likes to give people a hard time. He’s always going to have that arrogance, and if you can’t accept that, maybe you shouldn’t date him at all.”

“You know, he’s not _all_ bad,” Porah said. “He can be very sweet and very caring. And he’s rather shy when it comes right down to it. He puts on an act so people will think he’s tough, but he’s not always—”

“I don’t think anyone ever said he was, Porah,” Aya said from her spot on Larke’s shoulder.  “All I said was you should just go out with him and if he can’t straighten it out, break up with him, not the other way around. He’s been chasing you for a year now, either get with him or move on.”

Porah pressed her full lips together then ran both her hands through her hair. She exhaled, still drumming her fingers on the table, then abruptly stood and began digging in her purse.

“Lunch is on me,” she said, setting a large number of rupees on the table.  

“Where are you going?” Eve asked.  

“I’m going to see Cregger and… oh, you guys can figure it out,” she mumbled, looking a little flushed as she pulled her cloak over her shoulders and walked out of the diner. Aya chuckled and looked at Eve, who shrugged and pulled the rupees into her own purse.

“I guess we can order an appetizer now too,” she grinned while everyone at the table laughed.

* * *

 

 “Will you _look_ at them?” Aya said with a grimace, her face contorted in exaggerated disgust.  “I mean, I’m glad they’re going out now but I thought they’d be less…”

“Dramatic?” Larke asked, burying her smile behind her hand as they stared across the square to where Porah was standing with Cregger. He had his arms around her waist, bent over slightly to press his forehead to hers while Porah smiled and played with his hair. They murmured something to one another, then Cregger smiled and _blushed_ before leaning into kiss Porah again.

“Urgh!” Aya exclaimed, flailing her hands and sticking her tongue out. “Gross.”

“Since when do you find kissing gross?” Larke laughed. “You and Corvus were all over each other on Ribbon Day last year.”

“Not like that.”

“Oh, yes like that,” Larke laughed. “ _Exactly_ like that. You are a hypocrite.”

“Perhaps, but it’s fun to tease her cause she acts so haughty,” Aya said with a smirk.  “But also, it’s gross because they really are into each other and it’s sweet, but it’s almost too sweet.  I need to go brush my teeth after watching them.”

Larke laughed again and rolled her eyes.  This was the only thing she liked about Ribbon Day, standing on the edge of the Square with Aya and making fun of all the couples. It was just for fun, she didn’t mean any insult, but it was a catharsis of sorts. The day was heavy with romance and when you’re without a partner in that atmosphere it tended to be a bit depressing. Though Larke was glad she had yet to see Orel with his girlfriend. He hadn’t spoken a word about her in a few weeks, but that wasn’t unusual.  In fact Larke found it odd how little Orel talked about her.

What was also odd was the inordinate amount of attention he was giving Larke lately.  Asking about her favorite classes, who taught her to sew, what she thought of the weather that day and why she always had spare pencils. Yesterday he’d mentioned Ribbon Day and asked if she or Aya were doing anything, but Larke had lied and said she had too much sewing to go down to the plaza, wanting to avoid seeing him making out with Mallara if possible.

“I want cake,” Larke sighed after she and Aya had made another loop around the square, the sight of happy couples or newly made pairs starting to annoy her. “They don’t have pie, they don’t have red berries, they don’t have any chocolate, but they have cake,” she said, looking at the booths set up on the north side of the square, under lines of ribbons one could snatch easily to give out were they so inclined. Part of Larke wanted to rip them all down and toss them into the wind.

They’d just reached the snack table, where three types of cake sat out just waiting to be eaten, when Peater walked up, hands behind his back how knights often held them. He waited until Larke looked at him then gave her such a dazzling smile that she instantly felt her cheeks get hot.

“Hello, Larke,” he grinned, reaching out and boldly taking her hand in his, lifting her knuckles to his lips. “You look utterly stunning today, as you do every day.”

Larke gasped, frozen to the spot as Peater kissed her hand again, smiling the entire time.  Beside her Aya stood with a piece of cake in her mouth, looking utterly bewildered at what just happened. Larke wasn’t far behind her. They’d seen Peater not even twenty minutes ago, strolling through the crowd and smiling at every girl he saw, the women in the village praising his dashing good looks and teasing him as he passed them. _Mr. Skyloft, where’s your girl at?_

“Feel like taking a walk?” Peater asked, still holding Larke’s hand.   

“ _Me_?” Larke bleated, instantly hot all the way from her ears to her neck.

“Of course you,” Peater chuckled. “You are the most gorgeous girl on this whole island.  Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”

Larke looked at Aya, wanting to make sure this was really happening. Her friend’s expression was still blank, clearly just as shocked as she was. Peater stood waiting, still holding her hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world.  

“Um… no,” Larke replied. “No one has ever-”

“Well, you are. I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks that, but I’d like to be the one who gets to see you every day,” he said, tugging her a bit closer to him. “So what do you think?  Can we take a walk and talk for a bit?”

Larke swallowed, considering the proposition. Peater was brash and a bit arrogant, but he was also very nice, and he was being rather sweet right now… and he was undoubtedly handsome. It wasn’t as though she had anyone else interested in her. She had no reason to say no, and when she searched the myriad of emotions running through her, sorting through the shock, confusion, and embarrassment, she found delight in there as well. He may not be the boy she wanted, but… he was _here_. And he liked her it seemed.  Perhaps she could like him, too.

“Um, sure. Yes, I-I’d love to go on a walk,” Larke said, a breathless giggle bubbling in her throat when Peater kissed her hand again, then pulled her close and put his arm snugly around her waist. No one had ever touched her like that before, not even Aya, and it sent a shiver through Larke that increased the delighted feeling dramatically.  

“I’ll um… I’ll catch up with you later?” She said to Aya as Peater began escorting her onto the square.  

“Yeah… sure… have… have a good time!” Aya said, still looking bewildered as she waved at Larke. Larke smiled, looking up at Peater’s handsome face and feeling strangely proud to be walking around with him.

 


	3. concerns of the flock

Aya sat at the table, poking her scrambled eggs angrily with her fork.  They hadn’t done anything to her, save for being a little overcooked, but they were something to poke at nonetheless.  She needed something to poke at besides herself. She’d been doing that the last month and still hadn’t woken up. This was a long, strange dream, that was for sure.

“You look glum,” Heron noted as he sat down across from her, his eggs still steaming on top of his toast.  Aya sighed, glancing up at him through her bangs.

“I’m not glum. I’m confused.”  She raised her head, narrowing her eyes and jabbing her fork in his direction.  “And your  _ friend _ is partly at fault.”

“Which friend?”

“The blond one.”

“They’re both blond.  But I suspect you’re talking about Orel, who isn’t really blond.  He’s more… well, he’s blond but it’s so light that-”

“Oh, I don’t give a Loftwings claw about what color his hair is,” Aya grumbled.  “What the hell was he doing kissing that simpering  _ featherhead _ when my friend was-”

“It seems to me that  _ your _ friend is the one kissing the featherhead, now,” Heron interjected.  

Aya clenched her fist. “That’s beside the point.  What was Orel doing? What was he thinking?” she asked, jabbing her fork wildly towards the hallway as though Orel might be there to gesture at.  She knew he wasn’t, he’d been avoiding the dorms as of late. If she was honest she couldn’t blame him, what with Larke and Peater wandering about, him looking smug and her grinning sweetly at his side.

Heron shrugged in response to her question, looking to Jay as he sat down across from Aya.  “I‘m not sure exactly. I really thought-”

“Are you talking about Orel and Mallara?” Jay asked, looking from Aya to Heron.  When Aya nodded he snickered. “You want to know what he was thinking? He was thinking, ‘ _ Wow, attractive girl is paying attention to me.  Now she’s kissing me… this is fantastic _ !”

“He had another attractive girl paying attention to him!” Aya argued.  “How-”

“Not really,” Jay countered.  “He had a very cute girl who was always ready to give him a pencil, and always mended his shirts when he asked... and boy she sure blushed a whole lot when he looked at her, even more when he tried to talk to her, but she wasn’t actively paying attention to him.”

Aya exhaled slowly through her nose, trying to quiet the anger rising in her chest.  Jay was right, loath as she was to admit it. Larke hadn’t been paying attention to Orel, at least not overtly.  She watched his every move, but she never let him know it.

“That’s… still, he was  _ clearly _ into Larke and he-”

“He was. He still is,” Jay said, with Heron nodding in agreement.

“Then what the hell happened?”

“Like I said, attractive girl paid attention to him and… it’s Orel. He’s impulsive. And he was having a grand old time until he realized Larke had stopped looking at him, and stopped smiling when he talked to her. Then he wizened up and realized Mallara was not what he wanted, and Larke was.  But it was too late, and now he’s miserable.”

“I have trouble feeling pity for him,” Aya muttered.  “He could have asked her out ages ago.”

“She could have too,” Jay countered.

“This is  _ Larke _ we’re talking about.  She’s shy. She’s not going to make the first move.”

“She kissed me.”

“That was on a dare!”

“You’d better not tell Orel that,” Heron interjected with a grin.  “I don’t know if he’d wring your neck or ask you what it was like for an hour-”

“It was a peck. It was barely a kiss,” Aya said.

“I count it as a kiss,” Jay grinned.  “I’ve kissed both of you, and Eve, and Kessa.  I like Kessa… I need to go hang out with her again.”

Aya rolled her eyes again and turned to Heron.  “So does Orel plan to do anything with his misery or is he  just  going to wallow in it?”

Heron shrugged.  “Larke has a boyfriend.  She’s happy. She smiles all the time and giggles.  What’s he supposed to do, try to break them up?”

“Maybe…”

“That’s mean,” Heron scolded, frowning as he gestured to Aya with his fork.  “Larke is happy. Your best friend is happy and you want to ruin it.”

“I don’t want - How  _ dare _ you!” Aya yelped,  her neck and ears growing hot .  “That is  _ not _ what I want to happen.  I want… Larke… she’s better-”

“Peater isn’t a bad guy.  He’s nice to her,” Jay said fairly.

“He treats her like she’s a trophy to show off, but he’s nice,” Heron agreed.

“ _ That’s _ my problem,” Aya said, throwing down her fork.  “He treats her like a trophy! He likes her cause… cause she’s pretty to look at. He doesn’t like  _ her _ .  If he actually knew  _ anything _ about Larke he’d think she was weird and-”

“Is she weird?  How is she weird?” Jay asked.

“She’s not  _ weird _ , but she doesn’t want to be some trophy girlfriend.  There’s a lot more that she wants to do, like finish her senior year and draw and paint and Peater isn’t going to support that.  He wants a girl who’s going to bask in his shadow without creating one of her own and that’s… that’s not Larke! She’s too good for him! She’s too good for Orel probably-”

“Hey,” Heron said defensively while Aya folded her arms over her chest. “Orel is a good guy.  He’s funny, and he’s generous, and he’s-”

“So impulsive that he makes out with the first girl that comes his way without even thinking about it and-”

“Can you blame him?” Jay asked, snickering when Aya glowered at him.  “Come on, Aya… he didn’t do anything wrong. Just like Larke isn’t doing anything wrong.  They missed each other and-”

“And it’s so  _ stupid _ !” Aya shouted, slamming her hands on the table again.  “You don’t understand, I  _ know _ Larke, and I know that she’s going to get sick of Peater’s arrogance at some point, not to mention that if she knew the truth and had the choice she’d chose-”

“She  _ did _ have a choice,” Heron countered in a calm voice.

“How did she have a choice when she had no idea Orel was single again? Or that he was interested in her!?”

“Peater came out of nowhere, and it wasn’t as though she really liked him before that moment, was it?”

“She didn’t  _ dislike _ him, but she didn’t have a crush or -“

“She could have turned him down,” Jay argued.  “Said let me think about it or that she didn’t want to date him exclusively.  Orel was  _ right there _ .  He was there and was about to ask her out had either of you been paying attention.  We’d followed you around all-“

“He should have stepped in!” Aya screeched.  “If that was the case why-”

“He froze up.  He got scared cause he-”

Aya growled and pushed her plate in Jay’s direction.  “He can’t be both so impulsive that he can’t control himself when some pretty girl gives him an ounce of attention, _and_ scared to talk to a different girl a week later! This is so dumb! The _entire_ _sky_ is upside down and I don’t know what to do about-”

“Aya?”

Jay and Heron fell quiet, both sitting up a little straighter while Aya turned over her shoulder, surprised by the voice addressing her.

“Can I see you in my office?” Gaepora asked, his head tilted slightly as he looked from Aya to Heron and Jay then back again.  He usually didn’t come down to breakfast when students were there, not now that he was an Apprentice, but there he was, wearing casual clothes rather than teachers robes, his dark hair rather messy around his ears. Perhaps he’d just woken up, which made Aya slightly more irritated. It was unfair. He had no business looking so handsome after rolling out of bed.

“Now, perhaps?”

Aya bristled.  “Why? Is there something wrong with—”

“No, I… please come to my office,” he said, gesturing for her to follow as he turned back down the hall.  Jay and Heron glanced at her cautiously, but Aya only sighed, getting up from the table and trying to ignore the swoop in her stomach.  She followed Gae down the hall, folding her hands demurely in front of her waist when he gestured her into his office  and  shut the door behind them.

“Is there something wrong with the paper I gave to Instructor Pollus?” She asked, watching as Gaepora paused, shaking his head while he leaned against his desk.

“No, no not at all.”

“Have I broken a rule or anything?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then…. why did you call me in here?” Aya pressed, folding her arms defiantly across her chest.

“I… I heard you shouting. You sounded upset.  I only wanted to know if I could help,” Gae said gently.

Aya blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice, and the softness in his expression as he looked at her, quietly waiting for a response. All her chats with Gae has always been scholarly, or related to the island, or frivolous discussion about nothing and everything.  But in all those conversations with him she’d never seen him look so… concerned. 

“Is everything all right, Aya?”

The sound of her name on his lips, spoken in that low voice of his, called her out of her shock.  Aya scoffed the floor with her shoes, sheepish for getting so animated and shouting at Heron and Jay when they hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Yes, I’m fine.  It’s nothing,” she mumbled at the floor.  “Just… dumb teenage girl stuff you wouldn’t care about.”

“I care.”

Aya paused again, lifting her head and observing Gae’s expression, watching as a dull blush flooded his cheeks and he began to stammer, gesturing awkwardly while he tried to explain himself.

“I… well, I… It’s my job to-  it’s  _ going _ to be my job…  to care about the… the well-being of my students.”  Gaepora cleared his throat, his ears pink now in addition to his cheeks.  “And  _ you _ are… you’re a…”

“I’m a student,” Aya finished for him, smirking as she did. “But we were classmates not even a year ago.”

“It’s  rather  awkward for me to make this transition,” Gae admitted.  He’d said this before, two or three times in fact, and seemed to realize this when Aya smiled wider at him.  

“Well, not only with… I… Take  _ Orel _ for example. I’ve known him since Ugo and I were first years, even before that. I’ve had dinner at his house.  He’s more of a friend than a student, and I can guarantee he’s not going to respect me in—”

“I don’t think Orel will be disrespectful,” Aya said fairly. “He might tease you, but he’s not going to defy you.  Unless you haul him into your office for no reason when he was trying to finish breakfast…”

Gae grimaced, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. “I only wanted to know why you were shouting. I was concerned.”

Aya smirked again, tossing her hair over her shoulder before standing up taller, her confidence surging when she saw Gae tense, his expression rapt with interest.  “If you must know, it’s because boys are stupid _ ,  _ and sometimes they kiss one girl because she happened to show up when they could be kissing  _ another  _ girl who would be so much better for them and is just... better... in general,” she said, purposely being vague so he wouldn’t think her a gossip. Gaepora considered her statement, his lips pressing together as though he was trying to collect his thoughts before speaking.

“Are you… referring to  _ yourself _ in this scenario?” he asked, gesturing to Aya.  “I did hear Orel’s name come up... and I heard he’s… Ugo told me he was spending a lot of time with Mallara. Are… are you saddened because you-“

“It’s not  _ me _ ,” Aya laughed. “No, this is not about me.  And Orel isn’t my type. I like... older, more mature men.”

“Orel is older than you.”

“By less than a year. And older doesn’t necessarily mean mature,” she pointed out.  “He’s just not my type.”

“Corvus was your type.”

“Not exactly.  I’m more studious than he was. I prefer… scholarly interests.”

“You prefer scholars over knights?”

“You’re  rather  concerned with my preferences, Apprentice Instructor Gaepora.”

Gae’s face flooded with color and Aya had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.  He blinked at her a few times, then shook his head and smiled.

“I’m only trying to… connect... with my students.”

“I’m not your student yet.”

“You will be, though. I know you and Larke are both planning on continuing past your junior year. You, in particular, have made clear your plans to become a teacher,” he said, smiling when Aya nodded in agreement.

“I have. Perhaps someday instead of student and teacher we’d be... Apprentice and Instructor.”

Gae pressed his lips together, taking a slow, deep breath before he spoke again. “Perhaps we will.  For what it’s worth, I believe you’d make a good instructor.”

“That’s worth a lot to me,” Aya replied quietly, a warmth spreading across her cheekbones. She and Gaepora stared at each other, almost as though they were sizing the other up.  It made her heart race, and Aya felt a little sheepish for being so bold to steer the conversation in the direction she had.

Though, Gae didn’t seem to mind. He almost seemed to welcome it, despite the complications their flirting presented.  It wasn’t age that separated them, it was status that begged impropriety. And both of them knew it.

“May I... be excused so I can finish my breakfast?” She asked, thinking she should try to restrain herself, unsure of how much longer she  would be able to  resist the urge to flirt more, or the urge to throw caution to the wind and kiss him. “Henya hates it when we leave dishes out.”

“Oh, yes… I’m sorry to have kept you,” he apologized. “But do know, if you need anything, you can speak with me.”  

Gaepora stood and folded his hands in front of his waist, gazing at her with a conflicted expression.  “And I hope… I hope things get sorted with your…”

“My friend. Dumb teenage girl stuff,” she laughed.

“It’s not so dumb. A year ago I was still a teenager, and relationship drama doesn’t necessarily end when you turn twenty,” he admitted.

Aya chuckled. “I’m glad I have that to look forward to. I’ll see you around, Apprentice Instructor Gaepora.”

“Instructor is fine, or just…. Gae,” he said quietly, smiling at Aya in a way that made her stomach flip.

“I’ll see you around, Gae,” she said, turning quickly to the door. She shut it behind her, heart fluttering, thinking chatting with Gae was way more fun than it should be.

* * *

 

“Well done, Peater,” Al was saying, Rusta nodding as he helped Hawkin to his feet.  “You’ve been practicing, I see.”

“I have,” Peater chuckled, hefting the sword onto his shoulder and puffing out his chest.  “Mr. Skyloft can’t leave the island unprotected now, can he?”

Al, Rusta, and Gawain all chuckled.  Even Talon gave a little smile. But along the wall where the weapon rack was, Orel did nothing but glower, wondering how hard he’d have to throw his sword to get it stuck in the wood again.  He wanted to be anywhere else right now, preferably out in the sky among the clouds.

Though Grey could use a rest as they’d already been out this morning, but even a short flight would be better than being here.  

“He sure thinks he’s special,” Heron noted, arms folded across his chest.  He stood next to Orel, observing the scene with less disdain, but only marginally so.

“He’s  _ Mr. Skyloft _ ,” Orel said mockingly. “And clearly everyone here thinks he’s special too.  Look at this, it’s bird shit.”

Orel gestured toward where Al and Rusta were going over techniques with Peater, praising his form and speed, then laughing when Peater boasted about his flawless technique and burgeoning prowess for single-handed combat.

“I’ve had some practice with that… been fending off the girls for a few years,” Peater joked, elbowing Hawkin with a smug wink.  “‘Course, I got a girl now so all that’s behind me, but I gotta protect her from all  _ you _ fellas, I’m sure.”

Several of the knights laughed, which Orel was thankful for because it hid the sound of the disgusted growl that left his throat.

“Will you listen to that featherhead?  He’s so fucking…  _ cocky _ .  The last thing Larke needs is someone to protect her.”

Heron snorted, giving Orel a confused look.  “Are we thinking of the same Larke, here? She’s pretty meek. I don’t imagine-“

“She’s meek, but she’s got a fire in her,” Orel argued.  “Remember in class when she snapped at Cregger when he was talking shit about Aya?  And the other night when she got sassy with Jay after he was whining about chocolate pancakes?”

“Okay, yeah… but you still don’t know her that well to say protection is the last thing she needs.”

“I know her.  I took an entire class with her last summer and now she’s in my maths and history class.  I see her around all-”

“How many times have you actually  _ talked  _ to her? Aside from asking her to fix your clothing. Did you even talk to her when she did that?”

Orel frowned, sheepishly turning his eyes to the floor.  He’d tried to talk to Larke, and it should have been easy because she was so friendly and polite, but everytime he tried it felt like words got clogged in his throat.  She always seemed timid, sometimes shaking when she talked to him, unable to look him in the eye without blushing.

“She always seemed so nervous,” Orel muttered.  “I felt bad. I didn’t want to make it worse…”

Heron rolled his eyes and laughed.  “You are really dense, my friend.”

“I’m not dense.”

“You should have just told her you liked her, or asked her to have lunch or a go for a walk.”

“I was going to!  I was going to until that…” he gestured to Peater, who was twirling his sword now while Rusta babbled at him, “until  _ he _ showed up and… stole her-“

“It looked like she went with him willingly,” Heron pointed out, frowning when Orel pouted and folded his arms.

“I didn’t even know he liked her, or that she liked him.”

“Maybe she didn’t know it either until he asked.”

Orel grimaced and kicked at the dirt on the sparring hall floor, wanting nothing more than to sink into the wall he leaned against.    

“Orel, you’re up,” Al called, pulling Orel out of his self-pity and back to the present.  “See if you can give Peater here a run for his rupees,” he said, a smile on his face as he clapped Peater on the shoulder.  Orel stood, stretching his neck and rolling his shoulders while grabbing a sparring sword. He was about to turn and walk towards the center of the room but Heron caught by the shoulder and held him back for a moment.

“Don’t  _ pop  _ that over-inflated head of his, just… give it a little leak,” he murmured, waiting until Orel nodded before he gave him an encouraging shove forward.  Orel rolled his shoulders again, trying to gather his focus, or at least rein in his irritation.

Though as soon as he made it to the center of the hall and squared up with Peater, the smirk made Orel’s stomach turn.  He gripped the hilt of the sparring sword in his right hand, his muscles trembling.

“Alright Oral Orel, lets see if your swordplay backs up that mouth you have,” Peater taunted playfully, twirling his sword and raising his shield.  

Orel huffed, still trembling, staring Peater down and wondering what the Larke saw in him?  Was it confidence? His looks? Did she like the gold in Peater’s hair or his charming smile more than she’d like Orel’s-

Peater lunged forward, his sword clanging loudly against Orel’s shield.  He’d barely had time to raise it, and barely had time to dodge Peater’s next advance.  Orel spun over his left shoulder, his blade raised for a slice, but Peater blocked the blow and immediately checked Orel with his shoulder, sending him backwards a few steps. Orel stumbled, which gave Peater the opportunity to drive forward, meeting Orel’s defensive swings with a series of quick strikes.  Orel made an attempt to throw his shield forward, but Peater dodged the parry and instead hit Orel in the ribs with the side of his blade. Orel grunted in pain, then felt himself being thrown backward as Peater put both the sword and shield against Orel’s chest and pushed.

There was a slight commotion above him, which Orel couldn’t pay much attention to as he tried to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him.  Heron was at his side first, but it was Peater who extended a hand to help him to his feet. Orel groaned and laid his head back in the dirt, cursing himself for his distraction.

“I didn’t mean to knock you back so hard,” Peater said with a chuckle, offering his hand again.  Orel grudgingly took it, avoiding eye contact with Heron, Al, and everyone else looking at him as Peater pulled him up.  “Usually you’re so quick and wiry I just figured you’d catch me.”

“Yeah, well… I didn’t,” Orel muttered, nursing the ache in his side as he tried to catch his breath.  Peater was smiling, looking smug even as he patted Orel encouragingly on the back.

“You might be getting a bit predictable, too,” Peater advised with a smirk.  “I know how much you love to try that spinning counter-riposte, but-”

“He might be having an off day,” Heron interjected, stepping between Peater and Orel.  The latter was thankful for this, not only because he was still winded from being knocked to the floor but also because Orel had been about to backhand Peater with the hilt of his sword.  

“That’s true, we all have off days,” Peater said with a smile.  “Either way, you want to-”

“No,” Orel said quickly.  “I’m not… I don’t feel well.  I haven’t felt well all morning.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Al asked in a concerned tone.  “You didn’t have to come and spar if you weren’t-”

“I thought I’d be fine and it just… it hit me a few minutes ago,” Orel lied, looking at his shoes to avoid meeting Al’s eyes.  The latter stared at him for a moment, then reached out for the sparring sword Orel was still gripping in his hands.

“Alright then, take the day off.  Heron, you’re up,” Al said, handing the sword to Heron while Orel slunk out of the room, still feeling winded but no longer because he was knocked down.  He was panting, breathing hard to try and control his anger. Anger at himself for being distracted, for being stupid, for being too timid, and for wanting to take all this out on Peater who, despite his flaws, really hadn’t done anything wrong.

Orel stormed across the island and all the way home, taking a few minutes to throw his pillow and blankets onto the floor of his room before he threw himself into bed.  He stared at the ceiling, using everything he could think of to calm himself: the breathing and counting his mother had taught him, the trick of tensing and relaxing his muscles that his father had shown him.  

None of it helped, and Orel laid there in a self-loathing rage until Ugo came home roughly two hours later, Al following after him.

“I brought you soup,” Al said when Orel peaked his head out from behind the divider.  “Come have some, it’s still warm.”

Orel stayed quiet as he walked to the dining area, pulling out a chair and stirring the soup incessantly while Al and Ugo stared at him.  The room was awkwardly silent, save for the sound of the spoon scraping the bowl every so often.

“How long have you felt sick, kid?” Ugo asked eventually, leaning forward on the table to catch Orel’s eyes.  “You should have-”

“Don’t call me kid.  And I’m not sick. I’m fine.  I’m just… off.”

Ugo pursed his lips.  “Al told me Peater knocked you into the dirt.”

“With a cheap move,” Al added.  “He didn’t knock you down with sword play, he used that brute strength of his to throw you off balance and push you down.  He can’t match you in swordplay, Orel. You know it and so does he, especially now that Heron reminded him.”

Orel tilted his head.  “What did Heron do?”

“Let Peater lunge and try to rush him a few times before catching him in a lock and using your counter spin move.  Peater couldn’t block it, lost his shield, then Heron trapped his arm, stole his sword, and knocked him over with an elbow to the chest,” Al explained, a little smile on his face.  

Orel smirked to himself, stirring the soup a few more times before taking a bite.  Cucco and wild rice, very similar to the recipe Orel’s mom used to make.

“So, what’s causing your off day?” Ugo asked after a few more moments of quiet.

Orel shook his head.  “It’s nothing.”

“It can’t be nothing.”

“Can’t I just feel… off?  I didn’t want to spar today, I wasn’t up to it.”

“Or perhaps you were up to it, but got distracted, then later knew it wouldn’t be right to beat Peater’s head in,” Al suggested, smiling gently when Orel looked up at him.  “Orel, I know you well enough to read when you’re angry, and you were angry at Peater today. Despite appearances, it’s not uncommon for knights to have… conflicts of personality or-”

“I don’t have a conflict with Peater,” Orel interrupted.  “I think he’s cocky as hell and… he always... he just-”

“It’s okay not to like someone,” Ugo said. “I’m not real fond of Cregger or-”

“It's not that,” Orel insisted.  “I don’t dislike him. It just… everything is handed to him and it doesn’t seem fair.  He gets praise for nothing, he’s got a girlfriend who’s smart and so sweet and all he ever talks about is how she -  _ all _ the girls just fawn over him. It gets old, he has no substance beyond bragging himself up.”

Orel took another bite of soup, his face growing warm as he did.  He could feel Ugo staring at him, head tilted in interest, while Al let out a long sigh that Orel swore was a hidden chuckle.  “He just gets things handed to him,” Orel went on. “And it’s like you said, he’s not as good as he thinks he is. He doesn’t deserve-”

“But he also doesn’t  _ not _ deserve things either,” Al pointed out fairly.  “And perhaps that’s what makes you angry and jealous.”

Orel huffed.  “I’m not  _ jealous _ of him.  I’m… I’m not jealous.”

“Tell me about this girlfriend of his,” Al said casually, leaning forward on the table.  “He talks about her all the time but none of us have met her. He says she’s shy, but I suspect he’s keeping her from us.”

“She’s in my maths class and Pollus always calls on her cause she’s always got the right answer, but you can just tell she hates it,” Orel said after he’d taken another bite of soup.  “She seems to like history better because Gaepora doesn’t make her talk. We had mythology together over the summer and I know she was taking a few other classes, but she never talks much in them.  She’s shy, but... she’s not that shy. If you talk to her she’ll talk back.”

“What’s her name?”

“Larke.”

Ugo sat up a little more, a smirk on his face.  “Blonde hair, kind of short?”

“She’s not short,” Orel said defensively. “Not compared to Aya or-“

“I know her,” Ugo continued, smirking first at Orel then turning to Al.  “I don’t know if she’s shy as much as she’s timid. Last fall she got tangled up with a chuchu very early in the morning and when I came down to help she acted like it was  _ her _ fault.  Kept apologizing for bothering me.”

“Those things are stupid but they’ll strip the skin right off you if they get a good grip,” Orel muttered nonchalantly.

“Yeah, that’s what I told her,” Ugo confirmed, watching Orel as he nodded and took another bite of soup.

“Did you walk her back to the academy?”

“No, I didn’t.”

Orel narrowed his eyes and dropped the spoon.  “Why the hell not?”

“She insisted she could walk herself.”

“You should have insisted on helping her! What kind of knight are you letting an _injured_ _girl_ walk all the way across-”

“Now hang on,” Ugo said, smirking as he interrupted Orel.  “How do you know she was all the way across the island from the Academy?”

“Because the chuchu’s don’t go that far up!  They stay around the residential area.”

“Why was she out so early in the morning?” Al asked curiously.

“She goes running around the island three times. Down by the Bazaar, then across by the lake and around on the path by the bridge,” Orel explained, feeling warm again when Ugo continued to smirk at him.  

“Is  _ that _ why you got up so early all summer?”

“The mornings are quiet,” Orel snapped.  “I can think clearly… unlike when  _ you’re _ around.”

Ugo laughed, leaning back in his chair and grinning over at Al, who was staring at Orel with an amused expression.  Orel frowned and picked up his soup bowl, walking to the kitchen to wash it up. He was quiet as he did, returning a few moments later with towel and bowl in hand.

“Thank you for the soup.  I think I’m feeling better,” he mumbled as he dried the dish off then handed it to its owner.  Al nodded as he took the bowl, turning it over in his hands.

“You’re welcome, Orel.  Now, could you tell me,” he said, clearly fighting an urge to laugh.  “Do you think, since you know her schedule so well, that Larke would be open to having a chat with the other knights about the benefits of running?”

Ugo snickered while Orel glared first at him then at Al, who sighed and gave Orel a fatherly pat on the arm.  

“If it’s of any consolation, I don’t know this girl, but you seem a lot more into her than Peater does.  Maybe she’ll realize that.”

Orel sighed,  fidgeting with a chair as he returned to his room, thinking he’d been hoping the same thing.

* * *

 

Aya, Porah, and everyone else Larke had talked to, described kissing as relaxing.  An enveloping, blissful feeling. Something you could lose yourself in and be completely satisfied, but also somehow want more.  Not just kisses on the lips, but lips pressed against cheeks, jaws, neck, and everywhere else. Open mouthed kisses that left you panting and weak in the knees.

Larke wanted that so badly, that feeling of bliss and being desired.  And she had it. Peater wanted her, he  _ liked _ her… enough to kiss her deeply and run his mouth along her neck and his hands over her waist…

But Larke felt nothing.

The first fortnight or so, she’d felt giddy and eager whenever Peater would lean in.  But that had passed, and quickly too. Now she felt… tense. And distracted. There were no sparks, no bliss, nothing but her racing mind and a feeling of guilt that continually sat like a rock in her stomach.

“What’s troubling my darling today?” Peater had asked earlier, his mouth against her jaw and body pressed against hers.  She’d lied and said her argument with Aya, which was on her mind but not as pressing as the urge to recoil from Peater as he kissed her firmly, sliding his hand along her stomach, not once asking if she wanted to talk about why she was upset..  

Instead he told her not to worry, that Aya would get over whatever it was and Larke should relax.  They had a festival to go to, people who wanted to see Mr. Skyloft and his darling. She should wear a nice skirt and maybe tie her hair back, one that matched his favorite yellow tunic.  He wanted her to look pretty.

Larke looked down at herself and the outfit she’d chosen.  A cream colored shirt, and a startlingly red skirt that had clashed horribly with Peater’s yellow tunic. He hadn’t said anything about it, just paraded her around the square and talked about how pretty she was.  Part of Larke wondered if he even noticed what she’d done, then she’d frowned, feeling guilty for acting so spiteful when she should be grateful someone liked her enough to want to show her off.

“Larke?”

Aya’s voice came softly, a little hesitantly.  Larke turned away from the sight of the festival below to face her friend.  “I thought you’d be down with Porah and Eve,” she said quietly, watching Aya shake her head.

“Porah is arm in arm with Cregger, and Eve is hanging out with Hawkin, Rhea, and Peater now.  They said you’d left earlier cause you weren’t feeling well and I got worried.”

“I just got tired of the crowd,” Larke explained, leaving out that Peater had drug her around to various groups of people, but barely said more than two or three sentences to her, and had introduced her as, “my girl,” rather than her name all night.  

“So… you decided to steal my spot,” Aya teased, sitting down next to Larke on the edge of the Academy roof.  Larke chuckled, knowing this was a favorite spot of Aya’s to retreat too when she needed quiet. It was a nice spot to watch the whole island but not be a part of it.  

“Are you still angry with me?” Aya asked, to which Larke sighed heavily, thinking back to earlier in the day when Aya had told Larke that Peater wanted nothing but a pretty girl to hang on his arm.  She’d said he didn’t treat Larke the way she deserved, that he was arrogant and cocky and took her for granted. Larke had yelled back that Aya didn’t know what she was talking about. Peater was nice, and kind, and going to be a Knight.  Then she’d stormed off, too upset to respond any other way.

Mostly because she knew Aya was right.

“Larke?”

“No, I’m not.  I never was really,” she said. “I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.  I shouldn’t-”

“Don’t apologize,” Aya interrupted, putting her hand along Larke’s back. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Even if you were mad, that would have been okay.  I pushed you unnecessarily, and you reacted because I said things that… even if it’s how  _ I _ feel it wasn’t necessary.  I shouldn’t have said all that.  _ I _ need to apologize.  I’m sorry.”

Larke turned to face her, the sincerity on Aya’s face making her feel even worse. “You don’t need to be sorry,” Larke said, scooting closer to Aya, the latter putting her head on Larke’s shoulder.  “You just care, and I appreciate that, and you’re… you’re not-”

“No matter how much I care or… think I’m right, that shouldn’t override your happiness.  Because in the end that’s all I want. You deserve that so much, you deserve to be happy,” Aya said, looping her arm through Larke’s and squeezing.  “So if you tell me you’re happy, I’m going to believe that, because I trust you and I love you and that’s all I want.”

Aya squeezed her tighter, the pressure bringing back the ache to Larke’s chest.  She took a deep breath then sighed, her head heavy as it fell against Aya’s.

“You are happy… right?” Aya asked moments later, when the silence from Larke became too much for her to handle.

Larke couldn’t respond, the words wouldn’t come.  She didn’t know if she wasn’t ready to say them, or if hearing them would be simply too much to bear.

“Larke?”

“I am,” she said, the lie tasting like spoiled milk in her mouth.  “I am happy. It’ll be fine. It’s good. He likes me, he… Peater cares about me and he’ll… he’ll take care of me.”

Aya sat up a little, her lips pressed together, eyes studying Larke closely.  “That’s good.”

“It is.  It’s… he… he says I’ll never have to worry about anything.  He’ll take care of me and I can… I can be a good wife and… I…”

“What’s a good wife?”

Larke sighed, burying her face in her hands.  “I don’t fucking know,” she mumbled, feeling Aya’s hand against her back.  There was silence again, Larke using the quiet to try and compose herself while Aya appeared to think.

“Honestly though, what makes a good partner?” She asked finally.  “Is it someone who cooks and cleans and cares for the children? Is it someone who runs a business and takes care of things?  Is one type good and the other bad?”

“You know I don’t know.  I haven’t had very positive examples.”

Aya shook her head.  “No, you haven’t. But I have.  And my parents are neither of those things yet… they’re all of them.  They love each other.”

“Then maybe that’s what matters.”

“Do you think you love Peater?”

Larke looked down at her feet, watching them rhythmically swing back and forth over the edge of the Academy like pendulums, and said nothing.  

“Why are you with him?” Aya asked quietly.  “I know I asked that earlier in a mean way, but I want to know: why are you with him if you don’t-“

“Because he cares about me.  He cares… enough,” Larke said flatly.  “I want things eventually. I want a family and a home and he can give me those-“

“And no one else can?  There are plenty of people who could you could make a home with.”

“No one else wants me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is, no one-“

“No it’s not and you know it.  Even if right now, in this exact moment, no one else wanted you… someday someone would,” Aya said firmly, frowning when Larke shook her head.  “Don’t do that. Don’t give me that look. You deserve better, you deserve to be delighted and not sound so hesitant when someone asks you about a partner.  Larke, you are kind, and funny, and so smart and talented and you’re beautiful and-“

“Stop…”

“I won’t!  I won’t stop!  Any person on this island would be lucky to have you, none of them are good enough!”

“Stop that,” Larke laughed.  “That’s not true.”

“Maybe I’m over exaggerating but it’s true.  Why are you settling when you know-“

“Because it just… Aya, there’s only ever been one person I wanted,” Larke said, an ache in her stomac.  She thought unbiddenly of Orel and his handsome face, the strange look he had when she and Peater had seen him at the festival.  Depressed and… filled with regret. It was hard to describe, but Larke had an urge to ask what was wrong before Orel acceded to Jay’s urging and grabbed a tall glass of Skywheat Spirits, downing it as he walked off.  

“I waited, and waited. I tried to do everything I could to get him to notice me. It was never enough. I could never build up the courage to ask him out, and there was nothing interesting enough about me to keep his attention beyond borrowing a pencil or mending a shirt.”

Larke ran her fingers through her hair, taking a deep breath to shake off the sadness that threatened to drown her.  “It doesn’t matter. I’m… happy enough. I can be happier. I’m probably being ungrateful because Peater does… like me.”

“He likes how you look on his arm,” Aya muttered.  “Have you ever shown him one of your drawings? Or told him how much you like teaching Eagus to read and all your thoughts-“

“No, and I don’t… I don’t want to.  Because none of that matters. It’s just hobbies and some... lofty dream that will never come to fruition. It’s fine, it’ll be alright if I just-“

The noise of shouting cut Larke off, and she and Aya both looked down to see where the commotion was coming from.  Hobbling over the bridge were three silhouettes, one leading the other two, who appeared to be leaning on each other.  As they stepped into the light Larke realized who they were, a familiar nervousness settling in her stomach. Aya snickered, covering up her mouth to dampen the sound.

“Jay is so drunk Orel is holding him up, or is it the other way around?” She asked quietly, pulling her feet up over the edge. Larke followed suit, not wanting to draw attention to where they were perched, lest someone think they were spying or eavesdropping.

The boys stumbled towards the door, and as they got closer it was clear that Jay was supporting Orel, who had an amused smile on his face as Heron began fiddling with the door.

“Shit, it’s locked already,” Heron grumbled.

“Tol ya,” Orel chuckled, the words slurring over one another.  “They lock it soon as the sun…  _ fuck _ , does this mean we have to walk all the way ‘round?”

“You won’t make it,” Jay snickered.

“ _ You _ won’t make it,” Orel replied, shoving the latter away from him and swaying dangerously on his feet.  Larke was hit with an overwhelming wave of concern while Aya had to clap her hand across her mouth to stifle laughter.

“I bet I can pick it,” Heron mumbled, digging in his pockets.  “I gotta have something small though. Either of you got-“

“A hairpin, perhaps?”

Everyone, including Larke, jumped at the sound of Aya’s voice.  Jay actually yelped, which startled Orel even further and he tripped over his feet and went sprawling onto the ground.

Larke gasped while Aya and the others cackled in response, Jay not even bothering to reach down to help Orel to his feet.  Aya clambered down the front of the Academy entrance, grinning when Heron reached up to offer her a hand.

“Oh, thank you good sir.  So  _ noble _ .  Much more noble than trying to break in-“

“Hey, if someone is trapped picking a lock could be a useful skill,” Heron said defensively, his voice sounding thick but not as slurred as Orel’s words had been.   “What’re you and Shadow doing perched up there?”

“Shadow?” Aya asked while Larke narrowed her eyes and began to climb down the wall after her.

“Yeah, she’s either in yours or Peater’s so-“

“ _ Excuse me _ ?!” Larke asked as she reached the top of the doorframe.  “I am  _ not- _ “

“Ooh, there’s that sass you were talking about earlier, Orel,” Heron said, offering Larke his hand until Orel stumbled over and pushed him aside.

“Shuup,” He slurred, holding out his hand for Larke.  She hesitated.

“I don’t want to knock you over.”

“Wha?  Nonono ‘m fine.  ‘ _ M fiiiiine _ . I gotcha… come on,” Orel said, tossing his hair out of his eyes and giving her a bright, lazy looking smile.  

Larke took his hand, using the wall to steady herself as she climbed the last part of the doorway down.  To her immense shock, and delight, Orel pulled her close to him as though he had caught her, still holding one of her hands in his.  He stared at her for a moment, then swayed again and Larke had to jump under his arm to keep him from falling.

“‘M fine, I’m fine,” Orel said, righting himself and holding out his hands to demonstrate how fine he was.  He smiled at Larke again, tilting his head to the side.

“You…  _ you  _ gotall your steps today,” he mumbled with a small frown.

“My steps?”

“The dance. You didn’ fall on me.”

“Oh, that,” Larke said, sure she was scarlet by now.  “I um… I wasn’t as nervous as I was last year.”

“Why’re you nnnervous?”

“Cause you got too close to her,” Aya quipped, ignoring the glare Larke threw her.  Orel looked aghast, and Jay laughed as Orel stepped forward and put his hands on Larke’s shoulders.

“I Don… don’t be nervous.  I didn’ mean to make you  _ nervous… _ ”

“You’re probably making her nervous now,” Heron said with a little smile.  “You got a hairpin, Larke?”

Larke swallowed, reaching into her hair to pull out one of the slender pins holding it back. Her hair fell out into her face, and for some reason Orel inhaled very sharply, murmuring something in Hylian that made Aya gasp and snicker while Heron just laughed.  

“You’re not wrong about that, mate,” he replied, taking the hairpin and smirking at Aya’s mock disapproval.

“Picking locks, drinking so much you can’t walk right… what kind of squires are you gonna be,” She teased, turning to face Jay and Orel.  The former was snickering while Orel released Larke’s shoulders, though Jay kept pushing him forward. He continued to stare at Larke with a conflicted, almost hungry look that made her tremble inside.  She was about to ask him what was wrong, but at that moment the door popped open.

“Hahaha! I did it!” Heron exclaimed, laughing gleefully and punching his fists in the air.

“Yes!  You _broke_ _into_ the Knight Academy!” Aya teased.

“Congratulations, you’re a felon,” Larke added, accepting the hairpin back from Heron. Aya laughed and Larke swore she heard Orel snickering behind her.

“Say what you want, but knowing how to do this could be useful as a Knight.  Also… I can pick the lock on your door and steal back some of the red berries-“

“You take my red berries and I will throw you off the platform!” Aya shouted, dashing after Heron when he raced inside the building.  

Orel and Jay followed, Jay going first while Orel stumbled after him.  Larke walked into the hall, shutting the Academy door behind her so no one would suspect anything.  She’d just finished locking it when a thud and a round of hysterical laughter caught her attention.

“Hylia help me, mate,” Jay was laughing when Larke descended the stairs, gasping in alarm at Orel lying prone on his back, staring giddily up at the ceiling.

“Are you okay?  Did you fall down the stairs?” she asked, kneeling beside him.

“Ony th last one,” Orel murmured, still smiling while Jay cackled and pointed at him.  Heron returned, Aya following behind him, snickering quietly while Heron went up and nudged Orel with his foot.

“Hey buddy, you gonna sleep there all night?”

“I mmmmight...”

Heron nudged him harder, shifting Orel slightly with his foot.  “Asshole, get up. Your brother-”

“Don’t  _ kick  _ him,” Larke scolded, turning over her shoulder to glare at Heron, who grinned at her and shook his head.  

“Fine then,  _ you  _ get him up.  Kaebora-”

“If she hangs out long enough I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” Jay murmured, snickering when Aya let out a quick laugh from behind Heron.

“Probably not, but it’ll be a problem if Ugo comes through here on patrols or if any of the instructors come back.  Come on, Orel, get up,” Heron said, pushing Orel with his foot again. Larke stood and moved up by Orel’s head, kneeling down and pushing her hands underneath him.

“Listen you get his hands, I’ll grab him by the shoulders, and together-”

“ _ You… _ ” Orel interrupted, pointing up at Larke with a sly smirk and heavy lidded eyes.  “You can grab me  _ anywhere _ you like…”

Heron barked out a laugh along with Jay while Aya stood there and snickered uncontrollably. Larke felt herself blushing, certain her neck and ears were both red, though there was a pleasant swoop in her stomach when Orel smirked at her.  It was hard to miss the tone of the comment, but she tried valiantly not to read into it. Orel  _ was  _ drunk after all and probably didn’t realize what he was saying.

“Come on,” she murmured, putting her hands under Orel’s shoulders, surprised at how heavy he was despite being so slender.  “Let’s get you up, push with your legs…”

Orel listened and did as much as he could to right himself, Heron eventually helping by taking one shoulder and Larke the other.  She put her hand against his back, trying to stop him from swaying too much as they started to walk, Orel turning slightly so he could look at Larke as they moved.

“You’re all… always so  _ sweet _ ,” he murmured, curling his arm around her shoulders and pressing his face into her hair.  “An’ you smell good.”

Larke’s stomach dropped, trying desperately to think of a response.  Anything to say. But she could barely hear her thoughts over the beating of her heart.  Orel slumped into her as they walked, making it difficult to move quickly, though Larke really didn’t mind.  His arm around her shoulders and face in her hair felt nicer than any kiss she’d had to date.

“Just set him on the floor, he sleeps there half the time anyway,” Heron laughed when they made it to his room, gesturing to the floor between the two beds.  Jay entered behind them and flopped onto his bed, fighting to get under his covers while Heron sat down and laughed at Orel when he slid off of Larke and onto the floor, spread out like a loftwing basking in the sun.

“Aren’t you gonna give him a pillow... or something?” Larke asked, watching Heron collapse on his bed and burrow under the covers.

“Eh, he’ll be passed out in five minutes,” Heron mumbled against his pillow, waving off Larke.  She glanced at Orel, who was indeed almost asleep, and Jay who had become molded into the blankets.  Larke pressed her lips together and turned to Aya, who shrugged and nodded towards the hallway.

“Heron reminded me… want to go see if we can bribe some more red berries out of Fal?  He’s probably good and drunk by now,” she suggested as they walked.

“Why in the sky would we need more red berries?” Larke asked with a laugh.

“For pie, I jokingly promised Gae I’d make him one and I want to actually follow through with it to see how he reacts.”

“We have enough-“

“We have enough for  _ one _ pie, but I want a pie just for us. Plus leftovers.”

Larke laughed again.  “Okay, let’s do that, but I’ve got to run up to the room first,” she said, watching Aya tilt her head curiously while watching Larke jog up the stairs.  She rushed to the room she and Aya shared, quickly changing her shirt then grabbing a pillow and a blanket from the end of her bed.

“Oh, Hylia  _ help me _ , Larke,” Aya laughed when she returned down the stairs.  Larke ignored this and walked to Heron and Jay’s room, unsurprised to find all three boys passed out.  She knelt next to Orel, lifting his head slightly so she could stick a pillow underneath it.

Orel blinked at her, stiffening at first then relaxing when he realized what she was doing.  “I didn’t want you to be cold,” Larke murmured, hoping the excuse would explain why she was there.  Orel didn’t say anything for a moment, then caught her by the wrist when she pulled the blanket over top him.

“ _ Yoooure… _ ” he slurred, looking confused and awed.  “You’re sweet. You’re so  _ sweet _ .  And gen… gentle.”

“And you need to sleep it off,” Larke replied with a small smile.

“You’re like a dove… like a little dove.  Imma call you that someday,” Orel said in a drowsy voice, smiling up at her, his thumb stroking her wrist before releasing it.

Larke pressed her lips together, trying hard to remember what a dove was, but she’d let Orel call her that a thousand times if he wanted to.  

_ Boyfriend.  I have a boyfriend.  I have a boyfriend who likes me and tells me all about how he’ll take care of me… _

“I have… I have to go, Orel,” Larke mumbled, forcefully thinking of Peater, and how much he liked her, and how…

How no matter what he did, he never made her feel like this.

Aya was waiting in the hall, a smug little smile on her face.  “Is he all tucked in?”

“I just didn’t want him to be cold,” Larke replied.  “Are we going out?”

“I don’t know,  _ are _ you?”

“Stop that.”

“Larke,” Aya sighed, a strained smile on her face.  “You know I love you and I will listen to you if you tell me you’re happy, but I see how-”

“Aya, it… look.  Can we talk about it later?”

Aya nodded, putting her arm around Larke’s waist.  “Yeah, sure. Let’s go get some more red berries.”

* * *

 

The morning after each festival, students of the Knight Academy were tasked with assisting the Knights in clean up.  It started promptly at sunrise, and often gave active Knights an insight as to what their future colleagues acted like outside of a classroom.  And if this morning was any indication, Ugo was convinced Orel, Heron, and three of the girls from the year below them were the only ones fit to be Knights.

“You realize the reason they’re working so hard is so no one realizes how hungover they are,” Corvus said, pointing at Orel, Jay, and Heron.

“Oh, I know.  Orel is as green as the shirt he has on, but I’m giving credit where credit is due.  He’s not whining or complaining, which is more than I can say for Cregger or Peater.”

“Peater isn’t whining so much as he’s bored, and trying to supervise his girlfriend for some reason.”

“And it’s clear she doesn’t like it,” Ugo noted, watching the venomous expression on Larke’s face as Peater tried to show her the “proper” way to dispose of excess ribbon, which he apparently thought should be thrown out despite Larke’s insistence it could be repurposed.  After lecturing her for a bit, Peater kissed her on the cheek and tossed the ribbons in a scraps pile. Ugo smiled to himself when he watched Larke retrieve it a second later.

“Jay, grab the other end of that second table,” Al was saying as Cregger and Gawain hauled one of the tables towards the Bazaar tent.  “No, Orel you’re good. You and Heron help with the sweeping and ribbon clean up.”

Ugo watched his brother nod, glancing at Heron who was a lighter shade of green.  They passed where Ugo and Corvus were sweeping, Heron starting at the far end of the Square while Orel went straight for Larke, almost as if he couldn’t help himself.

“You seem to have a system going,” Orel said, glancing at the pile of rubbish and another smaller pile of ribbon and cloth scraps that were by Larke’s feet.  

“Not… exactly, I just… well, I…” Larke stammered, her face as pink as the bows she had tied her hair back with.  

Ugo watched Orel, who stood near Larke, waiting for her to finish, more patient than he’d ever been for anything else. The girl was blushing, gesturing and fidgeting with a ribbon in her hand and unable to look at Orel for too long.  Orel on the other hand just smiled, seemingly oblivious to the affect he had on her.

“Wow, poor Peater,” Corvus chuckled when Peater came over and seemed to laugh at Larke’s stammering.  “He doesn’t have a clue that she’s clearly into someone else.”

“She’s going out with Peater though,” Ugo noted. “Though I’ve never seen an odder pairing. They seem polar opposites.”

“Well, he’s Mr. Skyloft and, as he told me, he deserved to date the prettiest girl on the island.  That’s why he picked Larke.”

“Well then,” Ugo muttered, rolling his eyes and watching Peater give Larke a placating look, as though he was talking to a child rather than a girl his own age.  Larke was bright red now, and tense as Peater put his arm around her. “Was she this nervous when you were dating Aya and were around her more?” Ugo asked Corvus.

“Not really.  She was quiet, but the more comfortable she got with me it was better.  She was friendly, she can be sassy though,” Corvus said, smirking as he watched Larke duck out from under Peater’s arm and glare at him, speaking louder now than she had all morning.

“There’s no sense in throwing these away when they can be washed and used again, or repurposed into something-“

“ _ Darling _ , they can just buy new ones.  And why repurpose stuff? Just buy new fabric,” Peater said with a laugh.  

“We have finite resources, fabric just doesn’t grow on trees,” Larke muttered.  “Why don’t you just throw out the old sparring swords and-“

“Well, metal is important,” Peater said.  “Knights gotta have swords. You’re being silly about this.”

Before Larke could reply Orel turned to Peater, a mischievous look on his face.  Ugo and Corvus both walked forward, too curious now to miss out on the conversation.

“Speaking of Knights, Peat, have you started studying animal care yet?” Orel asked casually.

“Animal care?”

“Other types of birds, ones that lived on the surface.”

Peater scoffed, watching Orel for signs of seriousness, and when Orel’s expression did change Peater let out a hearty, almost mocking laugh.  

“Why do we study that?  There ain’t a surface, or if there ever was one it’s been long destroyed.”’

“You think so?” Orel pressed, still smirking for some reason.  

“Of course.  We’re in the sky, we’ve been here for thousands of years.  The only thing below the clouds is-“

“The surface is  _ there _ , it’s  _ always  _ been there,” Aya growled, storming over with her face flushed and nose scrunched up.  Ugo tilted his head in interest while Corvus chuckled, Orel giving him a sly look as Aya continued to rant.  

“We’re up here because a war made it barren and uninhabitable.  The Goddess sent us to the sky to get away from it all, to keep us safe, but someday we’ll go back.”  she said, her bright eyes daring anyone to challenge her. Larke looked curious and Orel smug for some reason, but it was Peater who snorted and shook his head at Aya.

“Nah, that ain’t gonna happen.  This is our home. We belong here.”

“This,” Aya said, gesturing to the island around them, “is temporary.  We’re not supposed to be here forever, we can’t. Someday we’ll-“

“Temporary for over a thousand years,” Hawkin pointed out, moving forward to stand next to Peater.  “I’m not saying you’re wrong, I’m only saying we’ve been here a  _ long _ time, and there aren’t any signs were leaving soon.”

“Perhaps not directly, but there are things I’ve noticed and if you read the deep history and lore in the old tomes you’d see-“

“How did you get access to those books?” Hawkin asked suspiciously.  “Those are all reserved for instructors only.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Aya muttered.  “We study creatures and the history of the surface because it’s  _ our  _ history, and we’ll need to know it when we return someday.”

“You mean  _ knights _ and  _ instructors _ study it,” Peater said, drawing another glare from Aya.  “And no, we haven’t covered it yet in any of our classes. Pollus must be waiting to finish the unit on crop and plant care first.”

“Pollus only teaches part of it, Kaebora teaches the other.  And Larke studied it too,” Orel noted, smiling gently in Larke’s direction. “You took advanced mythology over the summer.  We sat right by each other.”

Everyone turned to Larke, which Ugo was certain only made her more uncomfortable. Her cheeks were pink again and she was still fidgeting with a ribbon, looking up at Orel as though he frightened and intrigued her all at once.

“I remember, but we didn’t talk about animal care.  You might be thinking of level two. I couldn’t get in to that level, it was full already.  Knights get priority.”

Orel nodded.  “Well,  _ when  _ you take it, you’ll learn about the types of birds the surface used to have, like blue jays, cardinals, hawks... and doves.”

“Why do we need to know about those?” Peater asked, completely missing that Orel’s statement had caused Larke to gasp quietly.  She started at Orel, as though he’d said something that shocked her, and he stared back with a charmingly smug sort of smile.

“If  a war wiped the surface clean, they’re all dead now,” Peater went on.

Orel shrugged, his eyes still fixed on Larke.  “It’s like Aya said: they’re part of our history.  Take  _ doves _ for example,” he continued, leaning casually on the broomstick he’d brought over with him, tilting his head while Larke continued to gaze bewildered at him.  

“According to legend, the Goddess rode a Crimson Loftwing, but doves were her chosen messengers.  They were graceful, sweet, and very intelligent, but also shy. They couldn’t be tamed or cared for by just anyone, only those with a gentle touch.”

Ugo heard Heron chuckle from close by, and he watched Orel smile at Larje again, clearly expecting some type of response.  

But she’d frozen on the spot, completely still.  No fidgeting, or stammering, just her eyes fixed on Orel as though she was completely in awe.  Peater, meanwhile, had scoffed and gone back to sweeping, laughing to Hawkin about the absurdity of needing to learn how to care for long dead creatures, completely missing how transfixed his girlfriend was with this older classmate.  Aya remained close, looking between Orel and Larke with a very eager, hopeful expression.

“Is he… is your brother gonna kiss her?” Corvus whispered, still chuckling to himself.

“Nah, he… She and Peater are still dating, so…”  Ugo replied, watching Orel closely. It did look that way, like any moment one or both of them might lean into the other.

“Larke?”

The voice came as a surprise, drawing everyone’s attention to it.  Ugo looked up to see Al, Kaebora, and Gae all walking towards where the group was standing.  Larke tore her eyes away from Orel, looking confused as to why she was being addressed.

“Could we have a moment with you?” Al asked, smiling brightly.  

“Oh, yes… of course,” she murmured, giving Aya a look to which she nodded.  Al gestured, and Larke followed Kaebora back towards the Academy. Gaepora stayed, saying a quick hello to Orel and a sputtered hello to Aya, who was smirking attractively at him, before walking to where Ugo and Corvus were standing.

“Clean up going well?” he asked.

“We’d be done if we hadn’t stopped to watch the teenage drama unfold before us,” Corvus chuckled.

“Drama?”

“It wasn’t that dramatic,” Orel said, turning around to join the conversation, smiling when Heron laughed at him and gave him a brotherly handshake.  

“That was slick, good work,” Heron grinned.  “I didn’t know if you’d be able to get to the point when Aya started yelling but-”

“Oh no, that was all part of it,” Orel explained.  “You told me Aya doesn’t like them together, and I’m sure she’s told Larke as much.  So, if I can get him to be an ass like he was just now, she’ll stop liking him then I can show her that  _ I- _ ”

“This does  _ not _ sound like a well thought out plan,” Ugo interjected, shaking his head.  “She might just end up thinking  _ you’re _ an ass for goading him all the time.”

Orel paused, looking at Heron who shrugged.  “I don’t… you weren’t  _ goading _ him.”

“No, I was goading Aya more than anything, or I was kind of hoping Larke would get sassy with Peater… but that didn’t seem to work,” Orel admitted.

“Why were you goading Aya?” Gae asked.

“I wanted to hear her get all up in arms about Peater thinking the surface doesn’t exist.  Maybe Larke agrees, and would… I don’t know… not like that Peater doesn’t believe in it.”

“So, your whole goal here is to make him look bad, and present yourself as the better option?” Corvus asked, watching as Orel hesitated, then looked sheepishly at the ground.  “Yeah, good plan.”

“Please don’t act like you’re an expert in dating or wooing someone,” Heron countered. “Yes, you’re the only one here who’s dated someone…”

Gae and Ugo glanced quickly at each other, but said nothing.  Neither of them were still sure of what was going on, just that they liked each other’s company enough to hang out sometimes and make out at others.

“... but you’ve only dated  _ one _ girl.  And she broke up with you,” Heron finished, ignoring Corvus when he swore under his breath and went back to sweeping.

“Then what am I supposed to do?  Just wait?” Orel asked, not to any specific person, though Ugo was pleased when his brother looked at him first.  

“I think so, you don’t really have another choice,” he said, shrugging sympathetically.  “Maybe… date someone else?”

“I don’t  _ want _ anyone else,” Orel grumbled.  “I want  _ her _ .”

“Who?” Aya asked, pausing abruptly as she walked by, her hands filled with ribbon scraps.  Everyone stayed silent, including Orel, which only seemed to irritate Aya. “Wow, look at all of you  _ Knights _ being so helpful in cleaning up around here,” she snapped, drawing a chuckle from Heron.

“We’ve helped,” Orel muttered defensively.

“You taunted Peater about his stupid beliefs on the surface then stared at Larke for five minutes,” She retorted.  “Why’d you do that anyway?”

“I was curious if they’d started that unit yet,” Orel lied, his expression completely stoic as Aya stared him down.  “Larke was in mythology with me so I wanted to know-”

“Why didn’t you ask her?”

“Cause… she already knew the stuff.  Peater doesn’t. And he’s training to be a Knight so…”

Aya looked suspicious, but didn’t have time to form any sort of response because at that moment Larke came running over and seized her by the shoulder.

“I need you.”

“Why?  What’s-”

“Just come with me  _ now _ ,” Larke said, then she pulled Aya and her handful of ribbons back toward the academy, Aya looking utterly perplexed.  They passed Al on their way back and as soon as Orel, Heron, and the other students, who had all been lazily cleaning in his absence, saw him they doubled their efforts.  Orel and Heron finished picking up the last scraps of ribbon and cloth and put them in a bin, then scurried off to help the others as they debated on what to do with the leftover pole from the festival.  Corvus jogged over to help, Gae and Ugo following behind.

“So what did Al and your dad want with Larke?”

Gae lowered his voice.  “The Wing Ceremony. They were asking her to play the role of the Goddess this year.”

Ugo let out a long whistle and chuckled to himself, thinking that as soon as Orel found this out he’d train harder than he already was just to ensure he ended upon that statue with this girl.

“Why her?”

“She’s got the highest marks at the Academy right now, so it was both a reward for that and because… well, because they just thought it was appropriate. At least that’s what Al said,” Gae explained, smiling in amusement.  “Larke’s scores are higher than mine were.”

“No kidding,” Ugo replied.  “Let’s hope she’s smart enough to pick up on how much my brother likes her then.”

Gae laughed hard for some reason, nudging Ugo with his elbow.  “Or, let’s hope  _ Orel _ picks up on the fact that she already liked him.  She practically did everything to show him that last year.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, he’s a little oblivious.  Kind of like someone else I know.”

Gae smirked and dodged the shove Ugo levied in his direction, trying to hide his blush as they joined the others in lowering the ribbon covered flagpole to the ground.  Ugo saw Orel assessing the ribbons to see which ones could be saved, and thought to himself that maybe this shy, yet sassy girl would be good for him, and him for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the comments I've gotten on this! again this is just a side story, so the schedule for it is a little sporadic but I'm hoping to have another chapter up soon. I appreciate the positivity!


	4. Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wing Ceremony takes place, and Larke makes a choice

It was a cloudless day; sunny and warm. The sun’s position high in the sky indicating a change in seasons. Summer has come at last. While the skies were warm, the ground was busy, the people of Skyloft prepping for an event. The Feast of Fire, a celebration of summer fruits, wine, good weather for the coming fall harvest, and the Wing Ceremony crowning its victor who would go on to Knighthood.

The ceremony itself was still being tweaked. Prior to the official establishment of the Skyloft Knight Academy, the Wing Ceremony was a race to showcase new squires. Now, with the school having an official title, the winner was awarded automatic squirehood while the others had their academic and training skills assessed before being allowed to graduate up. The Contest allowed the of Knights greater discretion to potential squires and highlighted the seriousness of the task.

On the plaza facing the Southern sky, Orel stood bouncing on his toes, his mind racing faster than he’d be flying soon. Thoughts of his parents and how they died four months after Ugo had won his race, thoughts of Al and the way he’d hugged Orel that morning to wish him luck, and thoughts about how despite the seriousness of the event, he was filled with a boyish delight. He ran his hands through his hair, pushing long bangs out of his face and attempting to hold them back with the tie Ugo had given him. It was no use, his hair was too feathered and uneven, it would be in his face no matter what.

“You should cut it,” Ugo suggested.

“I like it,” Orel replied, messing his hair up again, feeling the tenseness in his muscles. In front of the platform Grey was circling, his gold tipped wings shining in the sunlight. He was faster and stronger than any other bird flying today. Orel had been working with him for weeks, flying at a breakneck pace through the sky, purposely antagonizing Octorocks to practice banking turns and swooping dives. He was ready for this. _They_ were ready for this.

“You’re ready, Little Brother,” Ugo echoed, clapping Orel hard on the shoulder. “You’ve got this.”

“Piece of cake.”

“Just stay low, focus, and it’s no problem.”

“Right.”

“Once you win, all you have to worry about it is the ceremony,” Ugo finished, and something about his tone made Orel stop bouncing and turn to look at him.

“The ceremony is easy. I get down on one knee, put my hand in hers, she says some words and gives me a sailcloth. We’re good.”

“Oh yes, that’s it,” Ugo said, smiling at Orel, who stared back at him in confusion. “You, uh… you haven’t heard who’s playing the goddess yet, have you?”

“No, I haven’t. I never thought to ask. Kaebora probably got Mallara or Kessa to do it,” he shrugged

“Nope.”

“Well, there’re no girls in my year at the Academy so… someone younger?”

“Getting warmer…”

Orel huffed and folded his arms across his chest. “Just out with it. Why does it even matter?”

Ugo opened his mouth to respond, but his comment was drowned out by a haughty voice that carried over all the way from the Bazaar.

“Yeah, yeah… of course they would choose _my_ girl to be the Goddess,” the voice boasted to a small group of people standing beside the tent. “She’s the best-looking gal on the whole island _and_ she’s dating Mr. Skyloft. It was the obvious solution.”

Ugo scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Orel felt his stomach drop to his knees. He stared at the girl under Peater’s arm, her honey-colored hair that hung long around her shoulders, full lips, and bright blue eyes...

Larke. Of course it would be Larke.

Peater had leaned forward now, kissing Larke on the cheekbone and chuckling. Orel watched her tense, pulling away from Peater so slightly Orel swore he only noticed because he’d been watching her any chance he had. He knew how she blushed across her nose when she smiled, how she’d giggle quietly or throw her head back and laugh when something was very amusing. Orel knew how her posture seemed to soften a bit around Aya, almost as though she was hiding behind her for protection, and how she tensed around Peater, like a Remlit who didn’t want to be touched.

“I’m standing right here. You don’t need to talk about me in third person,” Larke muttered, frowning when Peater laughed.

“Fine, you’re the most gorgeous girl on the island, and I’m your handsome knight,” Peater said, pulling her close as they walked towards the Plaza “Soon to be Knight, that is. Once I win this thing next year, it’ll be smooth flying for us, darling.”

Larke smiled, though it didn’t seem to reach her eyes. Orel watched her as they passed, his chest burning with jealousy.

“I gotta tell you, kid, I’ve started to agree with you,” Ugo said quietly, causing Orel to turn and look at him again.

“What do you mean?”

“She is way too sweet for that cocky featherhead,” Ugo explained, he and Orel watching as Peater pulled Larke into what looked like a reluctant kiss. Orel swore under his breath and turned away, confused by the smirk that was now on Ugo’s face.

“You still think that, right?”

“Yes, isn’t it obvious?” Orel hissed.

“Well, I suspect her friend agrees,” Ugo noted, gesturing to Aya who’d come down the stairs to watch the race. She took a quick look at Larke and Peater and wrinkled her nose, mouthing something quietly while folding her arms over her chest. “Don’t you, Aya?”

Aya turned toward Ugo and Orel, a confused look on her face as she tossed her long, golden hair over her shoulder. “Don’t I what?”

“You think Larke is too good for that featherbrain,” Ugo explained when she walked closer, jerking his head towards Peater and Larke, who had stopped kissing though his arm was still slung heavily over her shoulders. Orel couldn’t help feeling she looked weighed down by it.

“What are you _talking_ about?” Aya asked, dramatically aghast with her hand against her chest. “He’s _Mr. Skyloft!_ Everyone loves Peater.”

“I’m not saying I don’t like him,” Ugo explained. “Peater is a good guy, he’s talented with a sword and he’s a good flyer. But he’s also- “

“A blowhard,” Orel interjected.

“Yes, that,” Ugo nodded.

“Cocky,” Orel added.

“That too,” Ugo agreed. “He’s those things, and from what I’ve seen of Larke she’s - “

“Sweet,” Orel interrupted.

Aya quirked her eyebrow, smirking at Orel who was still glaring at Peater’s stocky figure. “Uh, huh. She’s definitely sweet.”

“And smart.”

“That too.”

“And kind, and funny, and shy and... _cute_ and what is she doing dating that puffed-up featherbrain?” Orel asked Aya.

“She likes him,” Aya shrugged. “He’s sweet to her, tells her how beautiful she is and how-”

“Great they look together, and how much she should like him because he’s going to be a Knight, and everyone loves him,” Orel grumbled, rolling his eyes. “He’s always reminding her of what a catch _he_ is, but he has no idea how… how lucky...”

Orel trailed off, staring at Aya for a response. She observed him for a moment then sighed and shook her head. “Yeah, I don’t understand why she’s still with him. I mean, he _is_ good looking, and she says he’s a good kisser, but it’s not like she has much to compare- “

Orel scoffed. “Larke isn’t so _vain_ to want someone because they’re good- “

“How do _you_ know what Larke is like?” Aya asked. “When did you become an expert?”

“I have lessons with her a few times a week,” he replied defensively. “I know her… a bit. Enough to know she’s not vain. Are you telling me she is?”

“No! Of course not,” Aya replied. She crossed her arms, staring over to where Peater was laughing at something Eve said, his arm still draped over Larke’s shoulders.

“Listen,” Aya said, dropping her voice barely above a whisper. “If you _really_ want to know, I think she… Peater asked her and he was so… _into_ her and there were no other options so she just went with it. And now it’s almost a habit because she doesn’t-”

“That’s _it_?” Orel asked. “I mean… does she _like_ him?”

“She keeps going out with him and kissing him,” Aya shrugged, her expression casual as she turned back to Orel. He scrunched up his nose and scowled at the stones under his feet, internally cursing himself for not saying something on Ribbon Day or on the hundreds of times he was in her room getting his shirt fixed. Orel could feel Aya watching him, and when she stepped closer, he looked up, surprised to find her smirking at him.

“What did you expect, Orel? Did you think she was going to wait around on _you_ for forever?”

“What?”

“I said, did you think she was going to wait- “

“Wait… _what_?!” Orel shouted before he could stop himself.

Everyone in the Plaza turned. Ugo started laughing while Orel stood there, feeling like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He glanced at Larke, who looked alarmed at his outburst. When their eyes met, she blushed brightly before staring at the ground. Peater laughed beside her.

“What’s wrong, Orel? Nerves getting you?” he asked. “You’ve got this for sure. You’re gonna fly great.”

“Yeah,” Aya said, still smirking up at Orel. “Peater says you’re great, Orel. Larke, what do _you_ think?”

“You’ll do fine,” she said quietly. When Orel looked up, her expression softened, and she offered him a bright, sincere smile. “You _will_ , Orel. You’re a good flyer. Don’t be nervous, you’re meant to be a Knight, you’re… you’re great.”

“ _See_?” Aya said. “No fear, you’re going to fly perfectly fine.”

Orel glared at Aya, waiting until all eyes were off him before speaking again.

“Did you mean that?” he asked a little desperately.

“Mean what?”

“What you just said?”

“About the race? Of course! You’re- “

“No! Damn the race,” Orel muttered, ignoring the frown Ugo threw at him. “Larke. Did you mean she had been… waiting for me? That means she… she-”

“She wanted you,” Aya said. “Wasn’t it obvious? The blushing, the stammering, all the pencils and mended shirts? She was literally _tripping_ herself, Orel, smitten as she was.”

Orel swallowed and looked desperately at Aya, images of Larke staring up at him, always offering to help or loan him something, offering to make tea or pancakes when Heron suggested it would cheer Orel up.

“She liked… _me_?”

“Sure did. But you were focused on training, and messing about with Jay, and _getting off_ with Mallara for- “

“ _That_?! I… We… she…” Orel sputtered. He’d almost forgotten about that. “That lasted two months! It was over _ages_ ago! I… she- “

“You missed your chance, Orel,” Aya shrugged. “I bet if Larke had _any_ idea you’d felt that way about her, things would be different. But you never said anything so… maybe you’ll catch the next flight, yeah?”

She winked at him, then flitted off across the square towards to stand by Larke’s side. Behind them, Kaebora was coming down with the other instructors, Jay, Heron, and Cregger following. The ceremony was about to start…

“Hey,” Ugo murmured, taking Orel by the shoulders and shaking him gently. “Listen, get on that bird, and get yourself on top of that statue,” he said, pointing to the giant statue of Hylia. “When that’s done, you can deal with all of this… okay? You’ve been waiting on this moment for years, Orel. The rest will come, but your moment has arrived… _right now._ ”

“Right,” Orel replied, glancing at Larke on the edge of the platform, her hair fluttering in the breeze. “Right…”

Ugo was right, Orel knew that. Everything he’d done the last year had prepared him for this moment. Sitting at attention in class, time spent studying at home, hours spent in the sparring yard with classmates or training with by the stream. First it had been with his father, the Ugo, Al, and others. All of them working with him, encouraging him, teaching him how to be a man and showing him what it meant to be a Knight. Orel wanted knighthood more than anything…

Almost more than he wanted Larke.

“Orel… _focus_ ,” Ugo said in a low voice.

 _“I am_!” he shouted, tearing his eyes away from Larke and her red dress and Peater’s arms wrapped around her waist. It should be his arms; they would fit better. He couldn’t stand it, he had to do something, had to tell -

“ _Orel_!” Ugo scolded. “The race!”

Orel growled and wrenched his eyes skyward as he stalked to the edge is the platform. Grey was circling, the sky was clear, his muscles were tense. Orel forced himself to focus on the sky and the wind, on the tiny loft wing and the statue in its beak. He was ready, _they_ were ready…

“All right,” Kaebora boomed as he stepped in front of where, Heron, Jay, and Cregger had queued up alongside Orel. “Today, you will be assessed on flight skill, dexterity, and sportsmanship. Whoever claims the statuette should proceed to the Goddess Statue for the blessing ceremony. Our beautiful Larke will be portraying the Goddess and bestowing the champion with a sailcloth of her own making,” he added, gesturing to Larke who smiled shyly after disentangling herself from Peater.

“Whoever wins this race will automatically advance to squire status, putting you one step closer to knighthood. The remaining contenders are to return here for an assessment and discussion on what your next steps will be. Best of luck to you all,” he explained.

Orel heard Peater whisper something to Larke, then heard an audible smack as he gave her a kiss on the cheek. Larke was flushed red when she walked past the line of competitors to jump onto her own Loftwing. The green bird soared up from under the island, catching her barely a second after she stepped off the platform. Orel watched her go, a strange ache in his chest.

“Now, boys,” Peater laughed, good-natured, though there was a tone to it. He looked Orel straight in the eyes before going on.

“Best of luck but remember: the only bird you’re chasing is the one that Loftwing is carrying. If any of you put the moves on my girl up there, you’ll have to answer to me,” he said, grinning while pointing at himself with his thumbs.

A few people laughed but Orel was not one of them. Neither was Ugo, nor Aya, who Orel saw roll her eyes before walking off towards the Academy.

The little Loftwing Rusta trained flapped its wings, lifting off from the edge of the Light Tower and soaring into the clear sky above. Ugo clapped Orel hard on the back, returning him to the present, to reality, to what he had to do now…

“Show them how it’s done, Little Brother,” he murmured.

Orel tensed, his breathing quickening. Heron and Jay were on either side of him, the latter shaking slightly. Cregger muttered to himself, the wind blew but all Orel was focused on now was the sound of the wind, the trill of Loftwings, and the pounding of his own heart.

Gaepora put his fingers to his lips and blew an ear-piercing whistle to start the race. Orel sprinted hard to the end of the platform, narrowly edging out Cregger before launching himself into the sky. Grey swooped under him and Orel caught his harness, digging his feet into the notches in the bird’s hips to bank sharply south and chase after the baby Loftwing.

* * *

 

Larke’s heart was pounding, her fingers twisted together as she watched the four racers soar through the sky. It was hard to see the riders, but the birds she recognized instantly. Gray for Orel, dark yellow for Heron, royal blue for Jay, and dark orange for Cregger. They swooped and dove, the gray bird performing a few astonishing feats: swooping sharply while its rider clung to its back, performing a dramatic loop as they tried to seize the statue, finally doing so but only after a sharp dive that took them under the skyfall island. When they emerged it was with a cry of triumph, Orel taking both his hands of the harness to throw them in the air, the little statuette clutched in his fist.

A solitary cheer erupted from the Goddess Statue, Larke clapping and jumping on the spot, eyes pricking as she watched Orel fly in a quick circle around the plaza. He deserved this. She’d seen him training in the yard and in the sky, saw how hard he’d been studying as of late. Aside from this, he was born to be a knight, she thought. Gallant, brave, and handsome, but gentle, chivalrous, and humble too.

Humility would be nice. Larke tired of hearing how great Peater was, especially from only Peater himself.

Larke took a breath and closed her eyes, reminding herself that Peater, arrogant and oblivious as he might be, wanted her. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, and be with her. He wanted to take care of her, and even if it meant sacrificing what she wanted, that was worth something. It was more than she deserved, probably.

The gray bird sang out in chorus with Orel’s continued cheers, though the sound was closer now. Larke exhaled slowly, steadying herself. She fluffed her hair, replacing a few of the flowers that had fallen out. Her bird had been kind enough to bring her some, knowing how nervous she was. It wasn’t the ceremony itself, which was only a simple prayer and the presentation of the sailcloth, but the fact that she’d be on this statue with Orel...

Who landed a moment later, looking like something out of a dream with his windswept hair and bright smile. Larke watched him press his forehead against his Loftwing’s beak, whispering something quietly, his expression so grateful Larke thought her heart might burst. She couldn’t help but move closer, overwhelmed suddenly with the urge to congratulate him herself.

“ _Graetel avi, neses raemela_ ,” Orel whispered, eyes closed as he stroked the feathers along the bird’s jaw. The Loftwing cooed at him, spreading its wings and launching into the air, allowing Orel to turn around and face Larke. He jumped a little when their eyes met, his widening in surprise.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you but… you were _incredible_ , Orel,” Larke gushed, hands clasped tightly in front of her chest. “I saw all of it. You went upside down and... You’re _amazing_ , it was such a great race. You’re going to be a wonderful Knight.”

Orel blinked at her, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink as he fisted his hand into the hair at the back of his head and smiled shyly. Larke’s heart fluttered; he was so cute when he blushed.

“Thank… thank you, Larke.”

Larke nodded, nervousness returning as Orel continued to stare, his expression suddenly tense, or conflicted, she wasn’t able to tell. “We um… we should do the ceremony, I guess,” Larke suggested, gesturing to the statue behind them.

“Oh, yeah… right.”

“Do um… do you have the bird statuette?”

“The what? Oh! Yeah, it’s here,” Orel stammered, handing her the tiny grey bird. Larke took it, but Orel hesitated in letting it go, his fingers lingering against hers until she gently pulled the bird away.

The little crevice where the statuette belonged was below Hylia’s chin, and Larke couldn’t help but stare up at the face of the Goddess. She closed her eyes, silently praying to her for courage as she began to sing the prayer Captain Albertos had taught her. He’d offered to teach her to play the song on a flute, but Larke had been too afraid she wouldn’t pick the instrument up quickly enough, so she’d learned the lyrics and melody and decided to sing instead.

“I didn’t know you knew Hylian,” Orel said when she finished, his voice clear and strangely loud in her ear. Larke spun to see him right over her shoulder, so close he was almost touching her, his expression rapt with intrigue.

“I don’t… I only learned the prayer.”

“It isn’t difficult to pick up. You sound lovely when you speak it.”

Larke swallowed, heart pounding again. “Thank you,” she murmured, offering her hand for him to take.

Orel knelt and set his hand in hers, squeezing it softly before bowing his head. Larke paused for a second, steadying herself with a breath. She had a ceremony to perform, a sailcloth to present, and couldn’t let herself get distracted with how gallant Orel looked kneeling before her.

“ _Great Goddess, guiding light and protector of our people, grant us your blessing and mercy as I act in your stead during this ceremony_ ,’” she began, shuddering a little when Orel’s hand tightened in hers. Larke closed her eyes, reciting the prayer in her head before speaking it out loud.

 _“Valiant youth who grasped victory at the celebration of the bird folk_ \- ‘“

“You’re so beautiful,” Orel interrupted.

Larke inhaled sharply, completely caught off guard as she opened her eyes to see Orel staring up at her, that rapt expression still on his face. She sputtered, then squeezed her eyes shut to try to focus on the prayer and not on the boy staring up at her.

“’I-In… _In accordance with the old ways, I now bestow the blessings of the Goddess upon you_.’”

Larke pulled her hand out of Orel’s and reached down to her hip where the sailcloth she’d made him was tied. She folded it as neatly (and quickly) as she could with Orel watching, presenting it to him with shaking hands. “ _’The blessings of the Goddess drift down from the heavens… aloft a sail... which I now pass on to you_.’”

Larke cleared her throat, watching Orel knead the fabric of the sailcloth between his fingers. “’ _May the Gods bless you with the courage of the fabled Hero and grant you the strength needed to protect this land_ ,” she finished with a sigh, thankful to be through the hard part. Now all she had to do was watch Orel jump.

Larke bowed her head and curtsied, expecting Orel to stand and bow in return. Time passed, and Larke waited for some sign of movement, though none came. Eventually she opened her eyes, surprised to see Orel still on one knee just… staring at her.

“Wh- wh… why are you staring at me, Orel?”

“Because you’re beautiful.”

Larke’s stomach swooped pleasantly, her heart fluttering as she tucked her hair behind her ears. “Thank you. I, um…-”

“I can’t take my eyes off you… or stop thinking about you. I haven’t been able to for over a year.”

Larke tilted her head, slightly confused. A year? A year ago he was asking her to mend shirts and borrowing her pencils while she was in utter turmoil trying to get his attention. More recently, he was making out with Mallara every chance he got. Why would she be on his mind?

Aside from that, it didn’t matter. He might find her beautiful up here on the statue, with the sun at her back and the blue sky surrounding them, but on Skyloft she was utterly ordinary. And there were other complications...

“I… um… I have a boyfriend,” she mumbled, perhaps reminding herself as well as him.

“I know,” Orel replied, an amused smirk brightening his face. “He warned us after you left that no one should try anything _‘funny’_ with his girl. He said it to all of us, but he was looking at me.”

“He said _that_?” Larke asked, embarrassed. “I… he… then what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Orel said innocently. “Knights are sworn to tell the truth and I’m only telling the truth: you’re beautiful, and I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Larke exhaled slowly, unable to come up with any sort of reply, shocked as she was. Instead of clarity, she was startled again when Orel held out his hand and smiled at her.

“Help me up?”

“Oh! Yes… of course,” Larke stammered, letting him brace against her as he rose to his feet. She expected him to release her immediately, but to her immense surprise (and reluctant delight) Orel kept his hand in hers.

There was silence, nothing but the sound of the wind gently blowing, her hair fluttering in the breeze. Orel exhaled shakily, murmuring something under his breath, then reached forward and wrapped her hand in both of his. He pulled her close, almost body to body, and brought her fingers to his lips.

“I should have kissed you that day,” he breathed, looking up at her with his icy blue eyes before kissing the back of her hand.

“Wh-what day?”

“Color Day? With the ribbons and Maypole? I should have kissed you then, or the thousands of times I came to your room to have you fix my shirt, or whenever I saw you in the morning by the bridge.”

“I… Orel, I don’t-”

“I’m supposed to jump off now, right?” he said, jerking his head to the edge of the Goddess statue’s hands. “The ceremony is over?”

“Um… yeah… that’s- that’s all we’re waiting on now, so yeah,” she murmured, pulling her hand from his reluctantly. “Jump whenever you feel ready.”

“I’m ready. You don’t have to wait on me,” Orel said, smiling softly.

“But... I do. I’m supposed to stay here and watch-”

“I mean, I’m _here_ now,” he murmured, giving her a pointed look. “You don’t have to wait on me.”

Larke blinked, then she gasped, hit with several memories all at once. Orel borrowing pencils from her, asking her to mend his shirts - sometimes the same one - several days in a row. The lingering in the halls when she and Aya were making tea, taking off his shirt repetitively, unnecessarily, every time she was around. Even a month ago… the witty quips when he was drunk…

She exhaled sharply, her shock turning to irritation, to anger… and to fear. All those times in her room, when she was too afraid to ask him out, too scared of rejection that she hesitated for too long. If he was thinking about her all that time, unable to _stop_ thinking about her as he’d put it… why hadn’t _he_ asked? Why had he waited until now?

When they were on top of the statue? In the middle of a ceremony?

When she had a damned _boyfriend…_

“Well, that… that’s just _great_ ,” Larke snapped, crossing her arms over her chest, temper getting the better of her. “You had… you had so many opportunities and... _This isn’t fair_. For you to do this to me now? _Here_? When I have to choose-”

“It isn’t fair to keep you in the dark, either,” Orel pointed out. “You’re right, I should have said something. I should- “

“Yes, you should have! But why _now_? This is… you… I’m…”

Larke threw up her hands angrily. “I wanted… I had such a _huge crush_ on… but now? I’ve got a _boyfriend_ and he’s- “

“I know that,” Orel said, and his slightly amused expression shifted to one of irritation. “And he’s… he’s cocky and arrogant and treats you like you’re an extension of- “

“Peater is…” she began, louder than before, pointing defensively at Orel though she had no defense. He was right, about all of it; she’d be lying if she said he was wrong.

“Peater is nice! He’s _nice…_ and he says he’ll take care of me,” she countered, hating how hollow the words sounded. “ _He_ likes me! He _wants_ me! He-”

“He’s not the only one.”

Larke gasped again, pressing her hands over her mouth to stifle the sound. Orel continued to gaze at her, looking a little guilty now. He frowned and stepped toward her, taking her gently by the elbows and pulling her close to him, so close she could feel his breath against her face when he spoke.

“Maybe he does like you, but he… he doesn’t want you the way I do,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. “He acts like he owns you, or that you’re some kind of… _trophy_ he won. I swear I’d treat you better. _We’d_ be better since-”

“I’m not something to compete over,” Larke snapped, pulling back from his embrace. “This is unfair! This- “

“I know you’re not! I know. I just…”

Orel pressed his lips together, his eyes wide and sad looking, which softened Larke’s anger slightly. “I only wanted to tell you how I felt. I couldn’t… go on without saying anything. I won’t compete over you if you’re happy,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“You won’t,” Larke said, and even though she didn’t _want_ to be a trophy anyone fought over her, a strange part of her was disappointed that Orel seemed to be giving up so easy. “Good. I’m... I’m not a trophy.”

“I realize that,” he assured her, a small smile on his face. “Are you sure Peater does?”

Larke gasped in alarm as Orel moved away from her, jumping backwards off the statue. She ran to the edge, terror seizing her as he fell fast through the air towards the courtyard -

He pulled out the sailcloth at the last second and floated to the ground. He landed in the center of the stone dais below, examining the fabric in his hands before looking up at her. Larke stared over the edge for a beat, then ran back towards Hylia’s face before turning and moving back to the edge of the statue again. Orel was still there, gazing up at her. She huffed and ran away from the edge.

“ _Why_? Why is this happening _now_?” Larke wailed, unsure if she was talking to herself or the visage of the deity in front of her. “What am I supposed to do? What… what should I _do_?”

Hylia’s statue remained silent as always, which only frustrated Larke more. She let out a sob and buried her face in her hands until a quiet chitter echoed above her. The air shifted as her Loftwing landed on the statue, chirping quietly while waddling over to where Larke was standing.

Larke threw herself against the bird’s chest, letting out a shaky breath and silently begging for guidance, a solution, anything…. Her bird was also silent, save for a consoling purr that rumbled her chest, her beak and head wrapped around Larke’s shoulders.

“Hey, Larke! _Daaaar-liiiin..._ ”

The sing-song voice that called to her was Peater’s, bringing with it a fresh round of tears. As unhappy as she might be, Peater had never hurt her. He was good to her, sweet to her, and she had no reason not to like him. And she did in some ways...

Just not as much as she liked Orel.

“Come on down,” Peater called. “Don’t make me come up there…”

His tone was teasing but Larke’s bird hissed, leaning over the edge of the statue to shriek a warning at the onlookers below. The green bird turned to her again, cooing quietly and spreading her wings.

“Please get me out of here,” Larke begged, climbing atop the Loftwing’s back. The bird spread its wings and swooped low over the courtyard, causing a few people standing there to cry out in alarm, but Larke paid no attention. She buried herself into the soft down on her Loftwing’s back and trusted her to carry her far away from the chaos.

The bird carried her through the bright sky, sailing through the air for a long while before landing on an island far from Skyloft. Not far enough it would take them hours to return, but far enough that it took Aya an hour or so to find them amidst all the other islands nestled in the clouds. She’d landed as the sun was starting to fall in the sky, a sympathetic look on her face as Larke recounted what had happened on the statue amidst sniffles and more than a few tears.

“I swatted him, just so you know,” Aya said when Larke finished.

“That was unnecessary.”

“It was wholly necessary; he deserved that. You have every right to be angry. It was poor timing on his part and like you said, he had all those opportunities to tell you before now.”

“What did he say when you swatted him?”

“He pouted for a moment, but after I shouted at him he told me he couldn’t help himself. He wanted you to know.”

“What does he expect me to do?” Larke asked, fiddling with the grass in front of her.

“Never mind what he, or Peater, or anyone expects you to do, Larke. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know, Aya. I feel so awful. I have no reason to break up with Peater. He’s-”

“You have every reason to break up with Peater,” Aya argued. “You are not into him. As much as he likes you, you just aren’t into him, and that is okay! You don’t need to feel bad about that.”

“But I _do_ , Aya. I can’t shut it off so easily.”

“I know you can’t,” Aya sighed. “Because you’re sweet, and you care. But there’s no sense in making yourself miserable for the sake of someone else and - I’m going to be honest here and it’s going to sound really mean - but Peater will never love you.”

Larke tilted her head, but Aya held up her hand to silence her question. “I don’t mean that because you’re unlovable or any other horrible thing you’re thinking. I mean it because Peater loves the _idea_ of you: this pretty girl he can show off. He doesn’t love _you_ , and he never will. You are too much for him.”

“There’s nothing that says Orel will love me either,” Larke pointed out.

“You’re right, there isn’t. But Orel is different, you know this. He could easily love you because you two are… you’re just…”

Aya spun so she and Larke were seated face to face and took Larke’s face in her hands. “I want you to answer me something. Honestly. Would you rather settle for the boy who calls you darlin’ and drawls on about how you’re the prettiest girl on the island, or would you rather take a risk and see if the boy who calls you a little _dove_ is worth his feathers?”

Larke sighed. “That _was_ really sweet. I didn’t… I didn’t think he meant it until the next day when he spouted off all that stuff about doves.”

“It was sweet, and it was smooth,” Aya laughed. “I was honestly surprised you didn’t kiss him on the spot.”

Larke laughed, twisting the grass in her fingers and setting it gently on the ground while Aya patted her on the knees.

“Come on, let’s go back. You don’t have to decide anything today, but you did make Orel that uniform. You should at least get to see him in it.”

Larke blushed, nodding in agreement while allowing Aya to pull her to her feet, both of them mounting their birds to take to the skies again. When Skyloft was in sight, they banked east to land on the platform in the residence area, trying not to draw attention to the fact that they’d been out flying so late. The sun was starting to set, and in the square the knighting ceremony was in full swing.

“...dedicate myself into the service of Hylia and her chosen knights,” Larke heard Orel saying, though she was barely able to see him through the crowd of people. “I vow to seek wisdom through education, courage through discipline, and find power in the strength of my fellow knights and family. I promise to be fair, just, and honest in my duties from this day until my last.”

“It’s funny that they call this a knighting ceremony even though they aren’t technically knights,” Aya murmured from beside her. Larke shrugged, thinking it was a formality they simply hadn’t abandoned. Squires did as much as the knights did sometimes, even if they didn’t carry swords.

The crowd clapped quietly, though a few cheers erupted at random. Larke squeezed through the throng of people to stand closer to the tree on the north end of the square. She watched Orel stand and shake hands with the Captain and Professor Kaebora, the other Knights playfully greeting him with claps to the back and handshakes when he descended into the crowd. Larke saw Orel’s brother ruffling his hair, the two of them talking quietly before he gave Orel hug.

After that Orel, wandered out of the crowd, close to where Larke was standing, though he didn’t notice her. He stripped off his old tunic and pulled on the sky blue one she’d sewn specially for him, admiring it with a bright smile.

“It brings out your eyes,” Larke murmured, watching Orel whip around in alarm. His eyes met hers, and he blushed slightly, which made Larke feel strangely confident.

“That color… it brings out your eyes,” she continued. “And it matches your earrings.”

“Thanks,” Orel said earnestly. “I’m not so sure about the mask yet, but I only have to wear it when I’m flying.”

“Will… will you _not_ be flying?”

Orel shook his head. “Squires only have ground patrols unless there’s a storm or an emergency. I won’t fly regularly until I’m a knight.”

“I see,” Larke replied, searching for something to talk about. “So… how is… how is everyone feeling about moving up?”

Orel frowned and looked towards the square, Larke following his gaze to find sandy-haired Jay standing in the crowd, Kessa beside him with her hand on his back. “Jay was a little upset he didn’t make it, but he’s always been a bit more into design and architecture, so I think that’s what he’s going to do. We need more builders in the village.”

Larke nodded, watching as Orel scoffed and gestured to the stage where the next graduate was kneeling. “Cregger thought about sitting out because he was pissed he lost, but he stuck it out after Porah talked some sense into him. I flew well today, I’m a little surprised I beat him if I’m honest.”

“You did. You fly well most days,” Larke said, smiling encouragingly when Orel turned back to her. “Is everything comfortable? Does the uniform fit okay?”

Orel looked down, holding out the fabric and nodding. “Oh, yeah; I mean I haven’t tried on the pants yet, but they look like they’ll fit. The shirt fits perfectly.”

“That’s good to hear,” Larke grinned. “I was a little worried I’d make it too big.”

“You… made it? _You_ did?”

“Yeah, I make all Knight uniforms, I’ve been doing it since I was… since my first year of school, actually,” she explained, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“I didn’t know that,” he said.

“Not many people do. I don’t go around… advertising it,” she explained, looking Orel over before stepping forward and taking him by the hands. She lifted his arms to the side, examining how the tunic fit around his waist and across the shoulders. She hadn’t measured him officially, but she was able to guess based on mending his clothes so many times.

“It does fit you well,” Larke said, feeling smug. “I had yours done for a few weeks, so that-”

“Weeks?”

“Well, yeah,” she said, releasing Orel when her face started to grow warm. “I knew you were the front-runner to win, and if for some reason you didn’t, you were still going to move up. There was never a doubt in my mind that you’d need one… so…”

Orel nodded, running his hand over the thick fabric. “But… how did you get it to fit so perfectly? It’s like you knew exactly what size I’d need and everything.”

“Orel, I’ve mended your clothes several times,” she grinned. “I know how you’re… shaped.”

Larke scuffed the ground with her shoe, warm through her cheeks and over her ears and kicking herself for saying something so silly.

A second later, she felt Orel step closer to her, lowering his head to catch her eyes with his. He smiled and Larke thought her heart might beat out of her chest.

“I know how you’re shaped too, _Iluli Duva_.”

“I… Iluli- “

“Little Dove,” Orel said, so close to her, his eyes studying her face, hands brushing hers softly. Larke felt her stomach swoop and was seized by an almost involuntary pull forward. She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth, the shape of his lips, and thinking about how she’d never felt like this _any_ of the times Peater had -

Peater…

Larke inhaled sharply, pulling away despite the desperate urge to lean forward. Orel followed her lead, his expression determinedly casual as he fidgeted with his hair.

“So… uh… where’s Peater?”

Larke frowned and avoided his gaze. “He’s around,” she mumbled. “I should go find him, actually. We’re supposed to do… something.”

“Ay,” Orel replied, sounding disappointed. “Well, maybe… I’ll... see you around later?”

“Yeah, I will… I’ll be around. There are not many places I can go,” she said, giving him a small smile. She hesitated, her mind racing as she tried to decide what to do. Either way, someone was going to get hurt…

“I’ll see you later, Orel,” Larke said, smiling again before turning away, spying Aya watching her from across the square. She walked through the crowd, Aya meeting her halfway.

“I saw that,” Aya whispered, unable to contain her giddiness. “I saw that whole thing. You were so close- “

“It isn’t that simple. I feel awful. No matter what I do someone is going to get hurt. It’s not fair,” Larke muttered, feeling sick at the thought. “I can’t… I don’t know what to tell Peater, and- “

“You tell him the truth, that it’s not working out, and you’re sorry,” Aya said. “Yes, someone is going to be hurt in this scenario, but why does it have to be you?”

Larke sighed, pressing her lips together as she walked. “I will hurt if Orel rejects me. Maybe he was caught up in the moment and- “

“That pain would be easier to handle than the pain of not ever knowing what could have been,” Aya said. “Like I said earlier, you don’t… this is not about what Peater or Orel wants. What do _you_ want, Larke?”

Larke nodded, the answer clear when she took a look behind her and saw Orel still standing in the same place, watching her walk away. The pull to return to him was so much stronger than the one to find Peater, if the one to find Peater had ever existed at all.

 

* * *

 

Orel burst onto the square, careening to where the wine and spirits table was set up to celebrate the festivals third and final day. He ignored the indignant cries that flew up as he passed, finding Ugo at the edge of a back table, laughing with Gae, Corvus, and Heron, all of them holding glasses of amber colored liquid.

“It happened, she ditched him,” Orel panted, throwing himself into an open chair.

“What?” Ugo asked, grimacing when Orel shook him and splashed some ale out of his mug. “Who are you talking about?”

“ _Larke_! She ditched Peater!” Orel announced, running his hands through his hair. “What do I do now? What- “

“Aren’t you on patrol?”

“For like… a few more minutes, but- “

“You should stay on your route; this can wait,” Ugo said firmly, giving Orel a scolding look. “It’s your first shift, you don’t want to look- “

“I don’t look like anything! I have the south side of the island! Talon has been talking to me _all night_ cause there’s no one- “

“Still, a schedule is a schedule and you should stick to it,” Ugo said, taking a long drink. Orel was about to argue again, but he noticed Corvus chuckling and Gae hiding a smirk behind his own cup.

“Ugo, are you _seriously_ gonna- “

“Kid, I’m not gonna tattle on you,” he grinned. “There are ten of us now. The ground patrols are only for experience to get used to being up all night,” Ugo said, laughing when Orel sighed in relief.

“Okay, good… now what do I do? Should I go find her and- “

“Maybe pick up some flowers or something,” Heron suggested. “That might- “

“Larke doesn’t like flowers,” Corvus interjected. “At least not the pink ones. They make her sneeze.”

“How do _you_ know that?” Orel demanded.

“Because I brought some to _Aya_ once,” he explained, rolling his eyes when Orel sighed in relief. “She had to take them to her house. Larke was a sneezy mess with them in the dorms.”

“Chocolate maybe?” Gae suggested. “Aya and her often- “

“I don’t think you need to bring her anything, you’re not making an offering,” Ugo said. “She’s clearly into you, just be yourself.”

“You sure? I don’t want- “

“It might be nice to bring her _something_ because she might have had it rough with Peater,” Heron noted. “He was skulking around earlier nursing a big glass of wine and talking about how good they looked together and maybe she couldn’t handle the attention he gets.”

Ugo visibly rolled his eyes and took Orel by one shoulder. “Listen, find her and ask her out on an actual date. That way you guys can talk about all this. If you bring her flowers or something now, she’ll have to carry it all over the place with her. Take her somewhere. You’re good at gifts, Orel, so those will come later. She probably just wants to talk to you.”

“Yeah, yeah I like that,” Orel said, straightening his tunic and messing his hair a bit. “How do I look?”

“You look like you just got off a bird,” Corvus said flatly.

“But it’s good, it’s that… roguish, windswept look. Girls like that… right?” Heron asked, messing up his own hair.

Corvus shrugged and fussed with his short blondish hair, smoothing it down along his ears while Gae did the same, tossing his shoulder length hair he usually kept pulled half back from his face while Ugo adjusted his cap and messed with his feathered bangs, the rest of his hair neatly tied at the back of his neck. Not one of them looked the same, or seemed to know exactly what girls, or Larke, might like.

“Fuck it. I’m gonna take my chances as is, I’m not missing another flight,” Orel said, turning from the group and rushing back out the entrance, waving when a chorus of _good lucks_ and _go get her_ s echoed from behind him.

But luck was elusive it seemed. Orel circled the island three times: north to south, east to west, but wasn’t able to find Larke anywhere. He passed various people, but none of them were Larke. She saw Hawkin and Rhea accompanied by a glum looking Peater, Orel’s parent’s friends Corbin and Nestor, Albertos and Rusta with the other musicians, and finally Jay, who had spent the entire three-day festival with Kessa from the village.

“You look desperate. Relax man,” Jay laughed. “I’m sure she’s around somewhere.”

“Yeah, but _where_?” Orel muttered. “I’ve looked everywhere. Maybe Peter was pissed and threw her off the island when she ditched him…”

“Nah, we saw her and Aya sneaking around earlier; they were talking to Gaepora and your brother for a bit really early this evening,”

Kessa nodded. “That was after the start of the feast, though. Maybe you’re chasing each other. Try maybe sitting down somewhere and watching for her.”

Orel frowned, he didn’t like sitting and waiting. He was too impulsive; too twitchy and eager and patience had never been his strong suit. But perhaps they were right. Perhaps every time he left a spot, Larke showed up seconds later.

He wandered to the windmill since it seemed like the best vantage point. From there, he’d be able to see all the way to the Light Tower and up onto the square, surely he’d see her if she walked by, or she’d see him. But minutes passed, and it felt like hundreds of people walked by, but Larke was never one of them.

Orel paced up and down the path between the windmill and the light tower, peering down by the pond and up by the dormitories trying to catch any sign of her. Aya even walked by. Alone. Orel saw her flit off to talk with Gaepora for a while, then she caught up with Eve before walking into the square. It was strange Larke wasn’t with her. Usually they were inseparable during festivals.

 Orel broke into a jog to follow her, tired of waiting. This was absurd, he was going to catch her and ask-

“ _YOU_!”

Orel skidded to a stop, recognizing the voice that called out for him, though usually it was gentle and sweet, not sharp and… annoyed. He turned around slowly.

Larke was behind him, looking stunning in a dark gold dress, hair silky and smooth over her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed red, like she was embarrassed or… angry. She clenched her hands into fists at her side at the sight of him, eyebrows scrunching towards her nose.

“I’ve been _looking_ for you. _Everywhere_!” she growled, walking closer, a tremor running through her from head to shoulders. Orel wasn’t sure if it was from anger or from the chill in the night air.

“Um… you found me?” he said lamely, fingers finding the back of his hair to straighten it out a bit.

“After hours. I’ve been _looking_ for _hours_ ,” she said, poking him in the chest.

“I was looking for you too,” Orel admitted. “I think we were chasing- “

“I. Have. Questions… for you… _Orel_ ,” she interrupted. “Orel the Knight. Blonde Orel with your blue eyes and blue tunic and your… _face_.”

“My face?”

“Yes.”

“You have questions for my face?”

“Yes!” she snapped, then paused, looking perplexed before shaking her head. “I mean… no! No, I have questions for you and your… stupid… _stupidhandsomeface..._ Will you _an-swer_ them?”

Larke stretched herself taller, shoulders drawn back and index finger lingering against his collarbone. She spoke quickly, the words tumbling over one another and uncontrolled, a manner Orel recognized too well. He grinned uncontrollably, hoping it was charming in some way.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I’m asking the questions,” Larke growled, poking him in the chest again, very flushed across her cheeks and down her neck.

 “Are you?” Orel murmured in a low voice, trying to keep his amusement out of it. “Have you been drinking, Larke?”

Larke hesitated for a beat, then tossed her hair and stood up taller. “So what if I have? And I said I have questions for _you_ , not- “

“Larke!” he whispered, aghast. “ _You’re underage_!”

Larke glared at him, and when he continued to feign shock, she clapped her hand over her mouth, utterly horrified. “How can you… is it _that_ obvious?!” She gasped, causing Orel to chuckle quietly. “I’m almost seventeen and it was only a bit of wine and- wait…”

Orel grinned as she rallied back, holding up his hands in surrender when she began to shout at him.

“Who are _you_ to tell me what to do? Like… like you’re some paragon of moral superiority. I saw you fall down the stairs you were so drunk! I had to practically carry- “

“All right, all right,” he laughed, loving how sassy and animated she was. “You’ve got me there… but still. You should be careful- “

“Aren’t you a Knight? Shouldn’t you be able to keep me safe?” she demanded, sputtering quietly. “Never mind that. I want… I want to know…”

Larke stammered, her anger dissipating rapidly, replaced by nervousness it seemed. Or remorse. She swallowed and lowered her voice, her voice trembling when she spoke.

“I wanna know if… if you meant… everything you said on the goddess statue.”

Orel nodded. “I- “

“Because do you realize what you did to me?” she interrupted, expression tight as though she was trying not to cry. “I was fine. I had… gotten over you and I was able to act... _normal_ around you instead of being a blushing idiot.” She swallowed and gestured towards the square above them. “And someone liked me. They liked me! And I was fine with him until you- “

“ _Were_ you fine?” Orel asked. “You did break up with him, so you couldn’t have been that fine.”

“I was,” She insisted. “It was fine… I had gotten my parents over the idea of me with a boyfriend because they thought no one would ever – He was nice to me and I would have been fine, but then you showed up on that statue and…”

She took a deep breath, eyes soft and so very blue when she looked up at him. “Did you mean it?”

“Yes, I did,” Orel said emphatically, closing the small distance between them. “I meant every word. You are beautiful, and sweet, and I _want_ you, Larke. I’ve wanted you since you tied me up on accident,” he laughed. “You’re too good for him. You’re probably too good for me… that’s what Aya says.”

Larke nodded, exhaling sharply, her expression relieved now. “You… you meant it,” she murmured, crossing her arms over her chest and chewing her lip when she looked at him.

“You know, when I… when I broke up with him, he was sad. Really sad. He asked me to stay and he… I made him sad.”

“Heron saw him, said he was moping about,” Orel grimaced. “He’ll be fine, Larke. But you-”

“I cried when I did it. It was hard because… there was nothing wrong with him, I just… _You_ made me do that. I did it because for a year - a whole _year -_ you were all I could think about. You’re still all I can think about.”

She hid her face behind her fist and turned away, but Orel moved closer, dipping his head to catch her eyes. Larke looked at him for a moment then averted her gaze, her cheeks coloring dramatically even in the dull moonlight.

“Listen,” Orel murmured, setting his hands gently on her shoulders, gathering her long hair into his hands and petting it softly. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t right of me to lay it on you like that up there. I was… well, I was being selfish and impulsive because- “

“Yes, you were.”

Orel chuckled, stroking her arms, which he noticed were a little cold. “You deserved to hear the truth. I couldn’t keep quiet and let you stay with him if you wanted something else.”

“I would have stayed,” she said, still looking at the ground. “I… he was nice to me.”

“Were you happy?”

Larke sighed. “I thought I was. I told myself I was.”

“Don’t you think you deserve to _know_ you’re happy?”

“I… maybe. But I _hurt_ him. I’m a terrible person.”

“You’re not -no, Larke, listen,” Orel breathed, turning her around and pulling her close. Larke looked at his hands against her arms before turning her eyes to his face, Orel desperately trying not to get lost in them. He gave her a little smile and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Let me make it up to you, _Iluli Duva_ … Little Dove,” Orel offered, placing the sail cloth he had around his shoulders over hers. “Let me take you out. We can go to that new place shaped like a pumpkin. We can go flying. I’ll take up to the top of the skyfall, or the Goddess statue. Whatever you want to do, Larke. Let me make it up to you.”

Larke lifted her eyebrows skeptically. “You’re going to make it up to me… by taking me to the _skyfall_?”

“Um… no?” Orel winced, heartbeat quickening when Larke looked him straight in the eyes. “I mean, what do you want me to do?”

She stared at him and took a deep breath, her expression suddenly determined.

“I…” she started, eyes still fixed on Orel as he tried to focus on what she was saying rather than the way she slowly chewed her bottom lip. “I want you to kiss me,” she breathed.

There was a moment of silence, then Larke seized the front of his tunic and pulled him down.

At first Orel did nothing, caught off guard by how sudden the kiss was and distracted by the feel of her lips, so very soft and warm against his. He kept his grip on her arms, still trying to process the fact that he was _kissing_ _Larke_ after dreaming about this moment for so long. He worried suddenly that his breath was sour, or maybe he smelled like bird feathers and bonfire or-

Then Larke stretched up, her body softening into his, one of her hands sliding around his shoulders while the other stayed fisted in his shirt. She sighed quietly, fingertips threading into the hair at the nape of his neck as she pressed her lips harder against his...

Orel’s confusion broke finally and slid his arms around her waist. He pulled her against him, lifting her slightly off her feet while her fingers knotted into his hair. Orel’s heartbeat became so loud in his ears it almost drowned out Larke’s voice as she moaned quietly against his lips. He tipped his head and she did the same, letting him coax her mouth open and slide his tongue softly against hers. He could taste honey wine and suddenly remembered she’d been a little drunk when she found him.

“ _Wait_ ,” Orel said, pulling back, hands gripping her dress to steady himself as he set her back on her feet. “How _much_ have you had to drink? I don’t want- “

“Not so much that I don’t know what I’m doing,” Larke breathed before pressing her mouth back to his. She stretched up on her toes, leaning forward and sliding both hands into his hair. Orel audibly sighed, his hands sliding down her waist, feet shuffling backward when she moaned softly and leaned bodily into him…

“ _Woah_ ,” he yelped, falling hard onto the wooden bench behind them, pulling Larke awkwardly on top of him. “I’m sorry, I… I…”

His sputtered apology was lost to a loud hitch in his breath as Larke crawled _onto_ his lap, her knees sliding alongside his hips while her fingers worked their way deeper into his hair. She kissed him again, harder now, urgent and desperate, a quiet moan echoing in the back of her throat. Orel froze again out of shock. She smelled so sweet and felt so warm…

Then Larke’s kisses slowed and - to Orel’s dismay - stopped. She looked down, breathing heavily, fingers still in his hair and expression shy, warm, and a little uncertain. Orel swallowed, feeling like he might spontaneously combust when she shifted against him, his mind still trying to catch up or process how incredibly good it felt to have her lips-

“I thought you… you wanted me,” Larke murmured, chewing her lip when Orel belated in shock.

“ _I_ _do_.”

“So… why... you don’t want to kiss me?”

“ _Hylinni savanes_ ,” Orel moaned, wrapping his hands into her hair and pulling her mouth down to his. Larke relaxed, tipping her head to deepen the kiss, her hands sliding from his hair down his arms, holding him gently at the wrists.

“You’re so sweet,” he breathed in between increasingly ardent kisses. “So soft and warm and lovely… how could I not want you? How could-”

“Orel, just _kiss me, please_.”

Larke kissed him harder and dragged his hands over her shoulders down to her waist. Orel pulled her as close as he could, pressing her chest to chest against him, one hand at the small of her back and the other coming up to cradle her face while she slid her hands along his chest. She sighed quietly and shivered, arching her back, trembling when Orel slid his hand lower and-

“Holy- _Larke_!”

Larke tore herself away, leaving Orel punch-drunk and breathless. He could see through his blissful haze that she was looking towards the stairs where Aya had appeared, her face a mask of shocked amusement.

“Hylia help me!” Aya giggled. “You said you were going to _talk_ to him I didn’t think you’d be _making out_ on a- “

“What do you _want_ , Aya?” Larke demanded, embarrassment plain on her face as Orel sat up and slid his hands back to her waist. To his surprise, Aya’s face fell, her amusement vanishing in an instant.

“I’m sorry, but… your mom and dad looking for you,” she said in a strained tone. “They ran into Peater, and when you weren’t with him they asked, and he told them you’d broken it off and - “

Larke groaned, burying her face in her hand. Orel sat up more, a little confused at her reaction. “Why would that upset them? What- “

“It’s a long story,” Larke whimpered. “I have to go before it gets worse.”

“ _Wait_ ,” Orel begged as she scrambled off his lap back to her feet. She straightened her dress and smoothed her hair, wiping her hand over her mouth. Orel jumped to his feet and grabbed her hand, desperate to keep her by his side.

“I’ll come with you,” he offered. “If you - “

“ _NO_!” Aya and Larke yelped at the same time, the latter holding Orel back by placing her hands on his chest.

“That’ll only make it worse,” She said, giving him a pained look. “Goddess, my head… I have to go, I have- “

“Larke, _wait_ ,” Orel pleaded. “I’m sure if we talk- “

“I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll talk to you soon, okay? I’m so _sorry_ ,” she wailed, running off with Aya, giving him an extremely apologetic look over her shoulder.

Orel stood there, still feeling the pressure of her lips against his, the heat of her body in his arms. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily, wondering when they would be able to stop this game of chase and simply... be together.

* * *

 

Orel pulled the bowstring back, letting it rest against his cheek while he aimed at the target across from him. His shoulders were tense, muscles straining as he held, but it felt good to be doing something active versus just sitting and… waiting.

“So, she kissed you… and-”

“She didn’t just kiss me,” Orel said, releasing the arrow and watching it strike the edge of the yellow bullseye. “She _kissed_ me. And she wanted me to kiss her back. Ugo, I ended up on the bench with her in my lap and-”

“I don’t need to hear all the details,” Ugo said, grimacing and holding his hand up so Orel would stop. “But… she kissed you like that then ran off?”

“It wasn’t like she kissed me and ran. Aya came and told Larke her parents were looking for her,” Orel explained, picking up another arrow and attaching it to the string. “She… she looked terrified and said she had to go and ran off.”

Orel pulled the string back, eyeing the target though in his peripheral vision he could see Ugo mulling this over. He let the second arrow fly, cursing himself when it the outer ring.

“Who are her parents? I can’t think of them,” Ugo asked.

“Blythe and Merlu,” Gae filled in. “Merlu does metal work. Not with swords, he helps out with machinery parts and what not. Blythe sews.”

“I honestly can’t recall ever meeting them.”

Orel turned and watched Gae shift uncomfortably, which did not go unnoticed by Ugo. “You’re being very vague about them,” he noted.

“They’re reclusive, and from my understanding they are very… protective of Larke, though that may not be the right word to use,” Gae explained. “I’ve heard Aya’s parents had to intercede on her behalf when it came to her going to lessons. They didn’t want her to attend, claimed it was useless because Larke apparently had trouble reading. When my father tested her, and she was off the charts in math and reading he insisted, said it was a waste for her intelligence to go unused. But even then… I believe Aya’s mother helped Larke fill out the scholarship application to attend.”

Orel exhaled slowly, glancing quickly at Ugo, his brother looking as though he wanted to do some more digging on these reclusive islanders. Ugo looked at Gae, frowning when he grimaced. He was hiding something more, but Orel didn’t know how to press the issue.

“So… _Aya_ told you all this,” Ugo said, changing the subject, a smirk on his face when Gae stiffened and turned pink in the cheeks.

“She did. I think it worries her.”

“Seems she comes to you a lot when she’s worried… and for other conversat- “

“She’s a brilliant student with a mind for leadership and has a lot of bright ideas on how to change this island for the better,” Gaepora said very quickly. “I enjoy speaking- _we_ enjoy speaking with one another. She’s engaging.”

Ugo smirked at him. “She’s pretty cute, too.”

Gaepora exhaled slowly, giving Ugo a quick glare before relaxing. “She’s seventeen now; her birthday last week.”

“You realize no one would think anything of it if you went after her, Gae,” Ugo suggested. “You’re only three years older than she is; it’s not like your ages apart. Seventeen is an adult. People graduate from lessons at seventeen. Some people have careers. You can own property and- “

“Aya is still in school. She’s a _student_ ,” Gae muttered, a reminder to Ugo but maybe to himself as well. “My father is Headmaster; I am an instructor now. She’ll be in my class next fall; her and Larke both. They’re both continuing with History and Culture and she’ll be my student and- “

“You can’t be caught kissing a student,” Ugo finished. “Don’t get caught.”

“Aya would never go for it. Even if she was… _interested_ in me… she would never- “

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Orel laughed, looking at Ugo. “You call _me_ impulsive, but Aya is just as bad. Remember it was her who told me about Larke on the _day_ of the Wing Ceremony”

“Then she swatted you on the head later when you acted on it,” Ugo said with a smirk.

“Yeah, but it was because Larke was upset,” Orel replied. “If she’d been happy or something… Aya told me because she wanted me to do something. I swear it. Why else- “

“Here he is,” Aya’s voice called, interrupting Orel’s thoughts. She was on top of the bridge in front of the school entrance, Larke following behind her. “I told you he’d be out here.”

Aya vaulted over the edge of the bridge while Larke hesitated, looking pleasantly flushed, hair soft and wavy around her face. She took a deep breath and jumped over the barrier after Aya, landing lightly on her feet.

“Instructor Gaepora, Sir Ugo,” Aya said formally, nodding at each of them in turn before smirking and looking over her shoulder. “ _Or-el…_ ”

“Aya,” he replied, giving her a nod.

“You’re not wrong. I did tell you because I wanted you to do something. Or someone, I suppose,” she grinned, jerking her head toward Larke.

“ _Aya_!” Larke bleated, turning an adorable but shocking shade of red in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, Larke,” Orel grinned, peering at her from over Aya’s shoulder.

“Hi,” she said shyly, tucking her hair behind her ear. Some strands fell out onto her face because they were too short to stay back. Orel wanted nothing more than to push them out of her face while leaning in to kiss her like he had the other night.

Aya moved behind Larke and shoved her forward, snickering as she did. Larke stumbled and glared at her, taking a breath before turning her eyes to Orel.

“Hey… um… are you busy? You’re shooting, so you might be,” she added, gesturing to the bow in his hand. “I’m sorry. I can talk to you later if I’m bothering- “

“You are not bothering me,” he said, tossing his bow to Ugo, who caught it with one hand. “I can talk.”

“Great,” Larke nodded, looking relieved. She looked at Aya, who grinned back at her and innocently plopped down on the bench next to Gaepora. Larke sighed heavily, walking past Orel over to the targets, gesturing he should follow. They walked all the way to the corner by the Sparring Hall before Larke turned to face him, hands folded together at her waist. Orel leaned casually against the wall and smiled, waiting for her to speak.

“How… um… h-how are you?” she asked.

“I’m well. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to sound casual. “I’m… I’m good.”

“You look good.”

“Thanks.”

“You look beautiful.”

Larke lifted her eyes and pressed her lips together, shifting back and forth on her feet. “Yeah… about that. Listen… I’m really sorry about the other night. I… Aya and I had snatched a bottle of that honey wine and I was drinking trying to… get the courage up to talk to you. Which is kind of stupid if you think about it.”

“Not really, I’m pretty scary,” Orel said, smiling when she laughed gently.

“Yes, well… to me you… Anyway, I need to apologize because I just… _kissed_ you like that, and then I pushed you, and it was a bit unexpected and a little… _aggressive_ … so, I’m sorry for that.”

Orel laughed, reaching forward to take her hand in his. “You should be sorry.”

“I should?” she asked, looking alarmed.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear him. “You should be sorry you _stopped_.”

“Oh,” Larke breathed, a gentle smile returning to her face. “You’re teasing me.”

“I can tease you more if you ‘d like.”

She smiled, pushing her hair out of her face before looking up at him. “Maybe. Not _too_ much.”

Orel grinned, his heart fluttering as he took a step closer to her. “If you want the truth, I did not mind it at all. Not in the slightest. In fact, I’ll kick Aya, Ugo, and Gaepora off that bench right now if you want to do it again.”

Larke laughed, her long bangs falling onto her face again. She moved to push them back but Orel reached forward and did it for her, letting his fingers linger against her jaw. She swallowed and blushed even brighter.

“So… Orel. I like you,” she explained, voice a little shaky. “A lot. And I’m wondering- “

Orel cut her off, catching her words against his lips while cradling her face in one hand, his other arm slid around her waist. This was not the same type of kiss from the other night. This was soft, gentle, and sweet. Larke made a pleased sound and leaned into him, her hands sliding around his shoulders. They broke apart and she pressed her lips together, sighing quietly before opening her eyes.

“Yes,” Orel whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

Larke blinked. “Yes, what?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

Larke smirked at him. “How do you know I was going to ask you out? Maybe I was going to ask you to kiss me again, or to do something horrible like meet my parents.”

“Yes. To all of it.”

“Maybe I was going to say, ‘I like you, Orel. Now go punch your brother in the face.’”

“Yes, to that too.”

“Hey! Punch me in the face, and I’ll throw your ass off the platform,” Ugo shouted, sounding rather amused. Orel made a gesture at him, one arm still looped around Larke’s waist while she laughed quietly.

“You’ve been threatened with that a lot because of me. Aya first, now your brother…”

“Eh,” Orel shrugged, pulling her closer. “You’re worth it. Grey would catch me.”

Larke nodded, still smiling shyly. “I’m glad; I’d miss you.”

Orel grinned. He probably looked like an idiot, but he wasn’t concerned about that right now. Larke was so close he could smell her perfume and feel her warmth against him. He really wished they weren’t in the Sparring Yard with his brother, Gaepora, and Aya watching curiously.

“Do you want to take a walk?” he asked. “I’d like… well, I’d like to kiss you some more, but in-between that I would like to talk to you without anyone else around.”

Larke nodded. “Yes, lets. That sounds nice. I can… well, I won’t run off this time at least,” she joked.

Orel smiled, releasing her waist to take hold of her hand. “Good, though I’d still chase you if you did,” he said, kissing her knuckles and watching her smile sweetly at him before he nodded his head towards the path and they walked off together hand in hand, hoping to find a place to be alone, and hopeful for whatever would come after that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot more of this coming, I hope you are enjoying it and if you are feedback means the world honestly. these are the first OC's i've ever fleshed out fully so I'm very nervous about how this is being received. I appreciate the support from all of you


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